"Why are we doing this again? I think I would know my own body."
"My, aren't you mouthy this morning." Says Tom with a smirk on his face. "To answer your question we're doing this because I want to make sure. No false positives."
She scrunches up her nose and sits on the bed. "Are you making that old doctor come here again?"
"Do you want to see him again?" he asks lightly, playing with a quill on the desk beside his chair.
She shudders, remembering her last examination. "No, I don't. He gave me the creeps."
He laughs then and looks in her eyes. "Good, because he's no longer able to practice his special craft."
"What do you mean?"
He smirks at her then and turns his attention back to the quill, not answering her. She eyes him closely as he does this and decides to test her limits.
"When can I see my family?" she says, thinking it's morbid to say it that way considering they're dead… but Tom won't be bothered by that.
He runs the feather along his palm. "When I'm sure you're carrying my son."
"Or daughter."
He smirks, looking at his fingers as he brings the sharp tip of the writing utensil to his skin. He pushes hard, lost in his own thoughts and watches his flesh with a curious expression on his face as blood starts to drip from his finger tip. She sees this as an opportunity; he is usually never this involved in himself. She walks over to him and sits down on his lap.
He looks up, surprised for a half of a second before his face becomes neutral and his mind focuses back on the world around him.
"You hurt yourself." She says lightly, taking his injured hand in her own and looking down at the red blood that's staining his skin, thinking it strange that he's even capable of bleeding. She's not good at manipulating people, but it's worth a try.
"It didn't hurt." He says, watching her closely as she brings his finger up to her lips and kisses it. When she puts his hand back on her lap she looks at him with his blood on her lips. He unconsciously licks his own. "I think blood is beautiful…" he admits, bringing his fingers up to her mouth, tracing the delicate bow of her lips and the blood that glistens off of them, his other hand wraps around her back, holding her in place. "It's beautiful like you."
Her breath starts to quicken at his words and all thoughts of manipulation fall from her mind. He's being open with her and honest with her, probably for the first time since she's met him. She starts to shake because of the intendancy of his gaze and the deepness of his voice. "You're like blood." He says in a faraway voice as his right hand twirls locks of her hair around his fingers.
"How?" is all she can get out. The look in his eyes makes it impossible to speak much else. He's never looked this way before. He looks almost real, almost like a flesh and bone person who can have feelings outside of anger and revenge.
His eyes travel all over her face, then to her neck, lingering on Slytherin's locket, then down to her legs, where she's holding his hand in her own. He leans back in the chair, cocking his head to the side and taking his hands from hers. He rests his elbow on the chair and brings his fingers up to his mouth while he studies her. She holds his eyes for as long as she can and then, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, she lowers her head.
"Because if I lost you, I would die." He says so quietly that she barely heard him.
She feels her cheeks turn hot and she looks at him from the corner of her eyes. His face holds such sincerity that she almost cries. He places his hand on her abdomen, where their baby may be growing and he leans his face to hers. She tilts her head and kisses him. To her it feels like the first time.
Wind rattling against the window makes her jump away and when she looks at Tom she realizes the moment is gone. The openness and connection has died and she wants to scream at the loss.
He stands up, making her stand as well. "We'll go to the cemetery after you get checked by the Medi-witch." He says as he walks to the doorway. She watches his back with a strange longing in her heart. Feeling her stare on the back of his neck he turns around. "That's what you wanted, right?"
She almost tells him to stop, she almost asks him to stay, but she doesn't. He leaves and she sits in the middle of the floor looking down at the wooden floor boards, totally confused.
X
An eerie feeling runs through her spine as she looks down at her own worn tombstone. It's plain, with sharp edges and moss covering its corners. Her full name engraved in a simple script with her birthday and supposed year of her death underneath it are the only things on the piece of rock. She frowns down at it. Tombstones aren't something a living person generally thinks about often, but seeing her own boring and simple one she almost wishes it were more elaborate.
"We have something in common." Tom's manly voice brings her out of her daze; she turns to him as he leans against a tree and eats an apple. Does he even need to eat, since he immortal and all? She wonders and files that question away for a later date.
"What's that?" she asks him.
He throws the apple and pushes off the tree, walking towards her. "We've both been believed dead at one time, when we were very much alive." A twisted smile comes to his face. "Funny, isn't it?"
No. She turns away from him to the other headstones by her own. Her father, Lennox Prewett, was always so strong and noble with a fierce stare and a kind heart. He died five years after she allegedly did. Annabell shares a stone with her husband and music from her childhood fills Isabel's ears. An image from when she was five floats to the surface of her mind and she smiles.
Her mother, tall and proud like an Amazon sat at her grand piano with her pale, beautiful hands placed gently on the keys. Her eyes were closed and the sun coming in from the large windows cast a halo around her red gold hair. To Isabel she looked like some sort of Goddess when she played music. She was in her element and didn't answer to trivial words such as Mother or Wife. When she played she was above all those things, when she played she was in another world, one that Isabel could never reach.
"I can feel you staring at me, poppet." Her mother had said with her eyes still closed. Isabel, timid at being called out, didn't speak. "Come here, baby. You don't have to hide in the doorway."
On her small legs she had walked to the center of the room where her mother sat, waiting for her. She remembered how lovely her mother looked that particular day. Her hair flew freely down her back and shone brilliantly in the passing light. A dark green dress complimented her pale skin and when she opened them to look at her daughter Isabel was impressed by the vivid green of her eyes. She was a beautiful woman, but beautiful in the strong, wise way that some woman are.
Her mother had reached out her hands and lifted her small body onto her lap. "Would you like to play with me?" she had asked gently in an affectionate motherly voice.
Isabel's small face lit up and her blue eyes sparkled at the suggestion. "Yes." She had said, trying to calm her excited heart. She had never been allowed to touch this piano before.
"Put your hands over mine." She had said, placing her eloquent hands over the light keys. Isabel did as she was told and her small hands barely covered the older woman's. "Now, close your eyes and let me lead the way." She had whispered against her hair.
She played a lovely song and Isabel smiled at the feeling of her fingers moving on top of her mothers. It was like she was playing this amazing song and when she opened her eyes and looked down at her lightly freckled hands she couldn't wait to grow up. So she could be great at something like her mother was, so she could be beautiful and wise, and everything she ought to be.
A hand on her back brings her back to present and she realizes with a sigh how much she wishes she could be a five year old again and how wrong she was about growing up. Tom says something to her but she only hears it from a distance as she looks at the final tombstone that's next to hers. Her brother, Xavier, only four years her senior had died in 1992. Beside him rests his wife and two sons, brothers to Molly Weasley, and part of a family she'd never know.
"We have to leave." States Tom as she stares blankly before her.
In her mind she can see them all alive and happy. Talking and joking with out a care in the world. They must have been devastated when they thought she was dead, how did they handle that? She wishes now that she could hug them and tell them that it was alright, that she never died, that they could be a family again. Her father could lecture her about the importance of an education as neon green smoke puffed out of the end of his pipe, her mother would frown at her choice of clothing while telling her that a lady never wore anything that was shorter then her knees, her brother… her brother would protect her from the world and hold her hand when it stormed.
A hand brushes away a stray tear that had slipped down her face and she focuses on the person before her. "We must leave." Tom repeats again as he captures another tear with his finger. She nods her head then and silently says goodbye to her family, knowing Tom will never let her come back. As she walks the path out of the cemetery she places her hand over her stomach where the confirmed baby is forming. She promises herself that she will protect her child from heartache the best she possibly can.
X
She lays in Tom's arms that night, drumming her fingers against his chest. "What are you thinking?" he asks quietly as the darkness obscures them from view.
"Nothing." She whispers.
"Don't lie."
She inhales deeply, holding on to him a little tighter. "What kind of Father will you be?" she asks him and she can tell that that wasn't what he expected.
"I guess I'll have to become one to find out, won't I?"
"Will you be kind?" she asks very quietly while picking at the edge of the cover.
"I won't tolerate disobedience, even in my child. If that's what you mean."
She frowns deeply at his words. She can deal living with him, she can deal baring his child but she doesn't think she can deal with him cursing their child. "Please, don't be too mean to our child. I want our daughter or son to grow up loved."
"That's what you're for."
"I had a good father… I think it's important."
He's quiet for a while. "I never had a father."
"Then you can make up for it by being a good one."
He laughs. "Let's worry about that when the baby comes. I'm tired, go to sleep."
She closes her eyes but doesn't fall asleep until late in the night. Tom's gone in the morning so she stretches her arms above her head before getting dressed and walking towards the breakfast hall. She has her head bent, chewing on her thumb nail, stuck in thoughts about babies when she hears voices around the corner.
"The wards will temporary be placed down at noon."
"What for?" asks a young, stupid sounding voice.
The more distinguished of the two sighs loudly and Isabel can tell that it's Octavian. "I've already told you, Goyle. The Dark Lord needs the wards down when he brings in the thresrals. So we must be on high alert for the few moments that they're down, exactly at twelve. Do you understand now?"
Isabel swiftly turns around and walks the opposite way. She knows this is her chance to escape. She breaks into a run and reaches the bed room where she keeps her wand. Out of breath from moving so quickly she takes a break, staring at the clock on the wall. It's ten o'clock so she has some time. She sits down on the edge of her bed, too excited to eat and too nervous to move. Thinking out a game plan she decides that she'll leave through the kitchens and escape that way, and then once out side of the wards she can apparate… but where would she go? And wait, she can't apparate while carrying a child. A frown creases her brow and she slumps a little further down. I can't leave Tom, he's all I have, she thinks to herself. What about Ginny and what about Molly? She sits in the same place in what seems forever, lost in thought.
With a frustrated sigh she stands and makes her way to Ginny's room. It's now eleven thirty. Deciding to do something good and selfless she opens the door and tells the other girl to follow her.
They walk down through the dark twisted halls until they reach the dungeons where
Isabel stuns the guard; they walk over his body and into the darkness. Swiftly making their way through the musty, cell filled corridor, she stops in front of cell number twenty three. Molly Weasley.
"What are we doing?" asks Ginny a little fearfully. She brings her hands up and rubs the sides of her arms against the chill.
"You and your mom are leaving." With that she blasts open the door and storms over to the hunched over body of the emaciated Weasley mother. "Are you okay?" the girl asks as she places her hand on her shoulder.
Molly looks up and squints her eyes. Her skin is pale with an odd yellow tint. There are dark purple circles under her eyes and when she reaches a hand up to her face Isabel notices how thin and bony she's become, she doesn't even look like the same woman. A shoot of anger rushes through her, geared towards Tom.
"Ginny?" Molly asks as she runs her fingers down Isabel's face. Her voice is broken and horse, like she hasn't spoken in a long time. "Ginny."
"No, I'm not Ginny." she says and looks towards the other girl who bends down by her mother with tears in her eyes. "We're going to get you out of here Mrs. Weasley."
They both lift her up by the arms and leave the dank dungeons. With light steps and shifty eyes they make it to the kitchens where the house elves are scurrying around frantically, Tom will be home soon.
"What time is it?" demands Isabel from one of the little creatures by her knees.
The house elf squeaks in surprise and then stutters in a high voice. "I-It's Eleven f-fifty f-five, miss."
"He'll be back soon." She says to the two women by her. They look at her with wide eyes, still confused. "The wards will be dropped exactly at twelve, but only for a few moments so you have to make it as far as you can away from here and then apparate." Ginny smiles and starts walking with her mother holding on to her arm. "Ginny, wait." Isabel says, making her stop and turn. "Take my wand."
She places the cherry wood wand into Ginny's surprised pale hand. "Aren't you coming?"
"No, I can't."
"Why can't you?" she asks a little fiercely.
"You don't have much time." She says, pushing the two so they'll move. "You have to leave before he gets back."
"Won't you be in trouble?"
Isabel shrugs and smiles. "I'll just blame everything on you."
They smile at each other for a moment. Then Ginny reaches out her arm and hugs Isabel tightly. "Thanks." She says. "I won't forget about you."
"You had better not." Laughs Isabel, even through her tears. She gives Molly a tired hug that the woman can barely handle. "Go now."
She watches with a heavy heart as the women limp across the grass. She places her hand over her stomach as she walks up to her bed room. She eats a peach and waits for Tom to come home.
X
"I've received some interesting news."
"Really?"
"Yes, really." Tom closes the door. "and why are you doing that. You don't know how to sew."
She scrunches her nose when she pricks her finger. "I'm trying to learn."
"That's besides the point." He says waving a hand dismissively and pulling her sewing material away from her with the other. "Do you want to hear my interesting news?"
"Okay."
He studies the small little flowers she was attempting to stitch. "Today… someone stunned a few of my guards, freed Molly Weasley from the dungeons, and helped her and her daughter escape."
"Oh?"
"Is that really all you have to say to me?" his voice has taken a dangerous edge. She looks at him under thick lashes. "Why did you do it?"
"What do you mean?"
He smiles slowly. "You know exactly what I mean. Only one person could possibly have done all of that and that's you."
"Why do you think it was me?"
"People saw you and they had your wand."
"Oh."
He stands over her now. "Is there anything you'd like to say to me?"
She sighs and looks away. "No, not really…"
"That's unfortunate."
"I don't see how."
Frustrated he yells. "You do not make these decisions! You do not go behind my back and do things like this."
"It looks like I did now, doesn't it?"
He grabs her arm and lifts her up. "Stop talking back to me."
"I'm just answering you."
"You are trying my patience."
She looks at him then, square in the eyes. "Is that supposed to scare me?" she's feeling brave because he doesn't have anyone there that he can hurt her with, because Ginny and her Mother are free. She's also pregnant. So he wouldn't hurt her… would he?
"Do you want me to strike you?" he asks in a voice that's almost a hiss.
She gulps loudly but keeps his gaze. "I think it all comes down to what you want, doesn't it."
Grabbing her wrist he pushes her against the table behind her. Her back crashes into the edge and the vase that it was holding goes crashing to the side, spilling flowers and the water it was holding. She doesn't move as he stalks towards and lifts her up so she has to sit on top. The water from vase soaks the back of her dress and her shoulder blades smack against the wood.
She knows she should be afraid of him right now; she should be scared that he'll hurt her, but she's not. Instead she's excited by his forcefulness and she's attracted to his control. When did that happen? Maybe it's the hormones. She brings a hand up to touch him but he grabs it and pins it to the table, wetness spreads between her legs.
"Never," he starts, glaring down at her and grabbing the waist band of her knickers. "Talk back to me," He rips them off her body. "again." If he's surprised by her arousal he doesn't show it. "Do you understand?" he asks harshly as he pushes her dress up a little more and unbuckles his belt.
"Yes," she says breathlessly. "I understand."
He pushes inside of her roughly and she closes her eyes. "This is how I own you." He says. "This is how I control you."
Those words make no sense to her right now so she ignores them as he starts to thrust painfully into her. One hand still gripping her wrist to the table, the other holding her hip in place. Pleasure starts to build inside of her and then he removes the hand on her arm, placing it on top of her leg.
"Sit up." He says sharply. Confused and in a haze she opens her eyes and scrunches her brows. "I said sit up!" he yells, adding a slap to her thigh.
She does so immediately, placing her hands behind her to steady her body. She's starting to breathe heavily and she's feeling very hot. Tom looks like a perfect marble statue. Completely in control of his expressions and body. How does he do that?
"Pull down the front of your dress." He says steadily, although he's still moving harshly inside of her. Again she's too shocked to move. His fingers dig painfully into her smooth skin. "Now!" He barks while he thrusts particularly hard. She whimpers, from the pain and the pleasure it caused.
She brings one hand up and lowers the right strap on her peach colored dress. Her whole body is shaking from his movements but he doesn't stop. She goes to the second and has to pause when a shock ripples through her. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. Getting a hold of her self she lowers the left one and she pulls down the front of the bodice, revealing her breasts to him.
He makes a strange noise in the back of his throat as he looks down at her. He places his hands on both sides of her body, giving him more leverage and making his thrusts deeper. She wraps her legs around him so she doesn't go flying backwards on the table, he groans. His head drops to her neck and he places hot, open mouthed kisses there, every movement making them closer. His shirt material scratches her chest and she drops her forehead to his shoulder, unable to handle all of the sensations that are coursing through her at once.
He whispers her name during his release and she shudders around him. They stay in the same position, breathing against each other for a few moments. "I'll let you get away with this. Only this one time." He says against her ear. She smiles and kisses his neck. "They weren't that important anyways… but don't do it again."
He pulls back enough to look at her. She kisses him softly on the lips. "I'm going to need a new wand now."