Dear readers, I will warn you now, this chapter really isn't for the faint-hearted. In fact, it's pretty sick, and you may hate me for it, but this is the Death Eater way, I suppose. If you are of a nervous disposition, or have problems with violence, gore, not very nice things etc, I suggest you skip most of this chapter altogether. Find when Narcissa is back in Professor Malfoy's office. This is me pushing boundaries. Dark territory is being entered here.
If you're cool with it, then please do read on. But don't say you haven't been warned.
Narcissa felt a strong pull as the Pensieve sucked her into to its shimmering depths, grabbing her with a firm grip and dragging her beneath the surface. She had plunged into one before, her father's which she had accidentally fallen into since she had once been very young and curious, yet the lurching feeling of Professor Malfoy's office still made her feel physically sick.
There was the feeling of falling, shadowy forms and swirls of memory taking shape around her as she felt a rushing sound in her ears, plunging into a whirlpool of cold darkness. For a moment she thought Professor Malfoy had set some sort of trap, and that she was just going to continue falling into nothingness with nought but the swirling shapes and faceless bodies and-
She landed on her feet in what appeared to be a sitting room. A perfectly normal one at that. Under her feet was a cream carpet, clearly well-looked after for it appeared clean even in the dim light of the fire, flickering lowly in the hearth underneath a proud mantelpiece of marble, in which was carved two cherubs on either side and a small but ornate mantel-clock on top. It was the only source of light, despite a small, simple chandelier filled with candles on the ceiling and long fingers of wax all around the room, none of which were lit. The walls were a pale yellow, with numerous picture frames dotted along them, filled with the photographs of the family who occupied the house, which Narcissa knew because she recognised the faces from the front of the Daily Prophet. Most of the occupants of the photographs, however, looked horrified, and the reason why was evident.
The sitting room, upon closer glance, was a mess. Possessions were for the most part scattered around, torn apart and broken into deadly little pieces. A large brown leather sofa was torn into shreds, scattered around the room. A little old radio was screaming white noise was in the corner on a rickety old table and an entire bookcase had been almost thoroughly demolished, pages littering the floor. Many of the picture frames on the walls were cracked or askew, with the subjects of the photographs clinging to each other for dear life. In family photographs the mother embraced the children tightly, protecting them from witnessing the dreadful things happening beyond the safety of their glass, and baby photographs were wailing in terror. The curtains were pulled tightly shut, though the soft glow of a streetlamp outside, evident through a minute crack in between them, informed Narcissa that it was night-time. Lit by the infiltrating fingers of the streetlamps and the fire, voyeuristic rays of light pushing into the room for a better look, were the family.
Three of the family were bound to chairs by invisible rope. The chairs seemed to be from the kitchen, for they were made of hard wood, with straight, rigid backs. Two people, a woman and a man whom Narcissa recognised as Nancy and Daniel, were unconscious, their heads lolling forwards onto their chests, the weight of their bodies leaning forward stopped by their magical bindings. Their brows were creased, exaggerating their somewhat wrinkled foreheads. The third person tied to a chair was conscious, a man with a mop dark brown hair stuck to his face. Edgar Bones.
Narcissa could guess that he had been struggling for quite some time, for he looked exhausted and his mouth was down turned in a scowl, as though he had set a livid look on his face but did not have the energy to keep it up. Narcissa guessed this could very well be so, for the entire family looked starved, their clothes torn and bloodied, and she suspected they had been tied there for at least three weeks without much sustenance.
The two children were also there, but were not tied down. They were hanging upside down in the air, slowly rotating in the middle of the room, in plain view of Edgar. Their arms and legs appeared bound together, for the children were rigid and straight-backed, though they appeared to be asleep for their eyes were closed and their mouths were hanging open. They would have looked almost peaceful, had their cheeks not been a bright red from consistent blood rush to the head. The woman Narcissa recognised as Edgar's wife, Louisa, was in a sobbing heap on the floor, conscious and untied. She was wearing a yellow summer dress which would have once been bright, except it was dirtied and covered in splashes of dark brown liquid which would once have been bright red. Her dark brown hair was lank, hanging around her face like lengths of rope. She was staring up at her children, the look of utter desperation in her eye. That maternal need to protect her young.
"Ah, my faithful followers. How pleased I am that you could join me on such short notice," whispered a voice directly behind Narcissa. She screamed, and swiftly covered her mouth with her hand, forgetting for a moment that she could not be heard or seen. Heart pounding, she moved back into the nearest wall, away from the voice.
The voice came from a man – or something that may have once resembled a man – in the corner of the room. He was sitting in an armchair of brown leather, his spidery fingers contemplatively pressed together. Despite the human-like appearance, there was something about him, about his aura, which was wholly inhuman. He was clad in plain black robes, in harsh contrast against his deathly pale skin. His cheeks were sunken, his complexion sallow, head bald and nose little more than just two nostrils carved into the stoic mask of marble which was the thing's face. His eyes were dark, almost black, though there was a certain hint of red within them.
For a heart-stopping moment, Narcissa thought that the man-thing was staring directly at her, following her movements to the nearest wall, and she felt her blood running cold, tears of fear prickling in her eyes. His eyes seemed to be everywhere; he seemed to see everything. She wanted to leave, she wanted to go, she didn't want to be under the gaze of this thing anymore. It was beyond her worst nightmares.
"Well, lower your hoods like proper guests. Let your host see you," the man-thing hissed, and Narcissa noticed the way he drew out his S's and C's, snake-like. She started as she heard a rustling sound to the left of her, and snapped her head around to see the cause.
She had completely missed the flock of cloaked figures around the mantelpiece, for they were all standing where the light of the fire could not reach. Now that they began to lower their hoods, Narcissa could see the flickering light dancing over their pale, sallow faces, and counted at least twelve of them, some she recognised, some she did not. She knew that Professor Malfoy would inevitably be there, for it was his memory, but it did not stop her stomach plummeting through the floor. She guessed it would reach the very bottom of the Pensieve before it stopped.
What are you going to do, Professor?
"Even Lucius," the man-thing in the corner hissed, and the amusement in its voice was evident. "I am surprised. You have managed a way to get out of the castle unnoticed?"
It was a while before Lucius spoke. He seemed as surprised as Narcissa at the sight of the man-thing in the corner of the room, but looked upon the monstrosity as though it was something he recognised from long ago. Like an old friend who had changed immensely over the years. His eyes were flicking constantly from the man-thing to the children suspended in mid-air, to the conscious man in the chair who simply continued glaring at the creature in the corner, and then back to the man-thing. His nose was wrinkled slightly, as though in distaste, and Narcissa could guess why; it being just a memory, the smells of the room were lessened than they would have been in real life, yet the smell of stale odour, excretion and unwashed human still prevailed in her nostrils.
"Yes, my Lord," Professor Malfoy replied finally. For a moment Narcissa was surprised at the way in which he addressed the pale creature. Surely he would never call anyone a Lord. Surely he, Lucius Malfoy, would never acknowledge anyone as being higher in the social hierarchy than he. Narcissa noticed that he was holding his left forearm, as though in pain.
The man-Lord-thing – which she deduced was Lord 'Voldemort', according to the Daily Prophet - appeared to notice this also. "Ah, yes, you have not yet experienced my call, have you, Lucius? I am pleased you had sense enough to apparate straight to me."
Professor Malfoy inclined his head, respectfully.
"Gentlemen whom I have not seen for some time, may I introduce to you" – Lord Voldemort extended his long, bony fingers towards Edgar Bones. – "our snake. The one reporting our activities to the Ministry for Magic. If you will forgive me for the setting, I and my Death Eaters taking care of the Bones' thought it would be better to bring the family back to their home for tonight's proceedings. We wouldn't want them to attract attention to Nott's house anymore."
There was a shifting of materials as the Death Eaters moved restlessly, as though angered at being in the same room as the man. Edgar merely continued glaring at Lord Voldemort, while Louisa's sobs intensified.
"Mrs. Bones, where are your manners? Your guests have come a long way to be here. They must be thirsty. Offer them drinks," the voice of Lord Voldemort spoke mildly, though the threat behind it was obvious. It was amazing to Narcissa how he could sound so cordial, yet it was that amiability which shot fear into her heart for Louisa.
Still staring up at her children, the woman did not immediately respond. She choked out a dry sob, seeming to have used up all her tears already. Her stare turned very slowly upon Lord Voldemort, and it wavered, her eyelids slowly closing as though to sleep. She did look exhausted, her face pale with a sickly yellow tinge, her eyes surrounded by blackness.
Quicker than Narcissa could register, Lord Voldemort had removed his wand from the sleeve of his robes – the same place I keep it – and had slashed it wordlessly through the air. The woman shouted out in pain, her head jerking to the side with a deep gash in her cheek. It oozed blood onto the floor and onto her dress.
"Leave my wife alone, you bastard!" Edgar shouted at the remorseless creature.
"Drinks, Mrs. Bones," was all he said, as she raised a trembling hand to her face, trying to stem the blood flow. She stumbled to her feet and scurried through the door adjacent to where Narcissa stood, presumably to the kitchen.
Narcissa realised that she had been holding her breath, her hand clamped over her mouth, and breathed in a deeply, only to cough at the smell. It was horrific.
"I have gathered you all here tonight so you may witness first-hand what is to happen to the people who question the power of your Lord, and also to see one another face to face. I am sure not many of you have met Lucius, who has been doing my bidding for longer than all of you." Narcissa saw Lucius' lips twitch into a smug smile. "It is dear Lucius here who discovered Mr. Bones as the Ministry informant, as well as the existence of the Order of the Phoenix," Lord Voldemort explained to the rest of his followers. They turned to look at Professor Malfoy, some with respect and others with what looked like jealousy. Narcissa tried to recognise as many faces as she could while all was quiet for the moment: the dark, thick eyebrows and square jaw of a Flint; a man who looked remarkably like the older version of William Nott; another man with the pointed nose and haughty demeanour of an Avery; two burly men who looked incredibly alike in beefiness and blank expressions whom Narcissa was sure would have the surnames Crabbe and Goyle; even someone she recognised from photographs in her mother's photo album, a relative on the Rosier side of the family. Why would all these people be fraternising with this thing? "Quite the help you have been, Lucius. It must have been difficult to worm such information out of Albus. I may soon come to think of you as my most loyal follower."
Professor Malfoy's head rose, as though in pride. "Thank you, my Lord," he murmured silkily. Nearly everyone around him looked quite envious now.
"My Lord, he is not the only one whose actions should win your favour," another cloaked figure cut in, stepping forward. Narcissa noticed Edgar's face finally turn from Lord Voldemort, setting his sight on the face of the man who just spoke. There was a hint of betrayal behind the furious glare in Edgar's eyes.
Lord Voldemort did likewise, his narrow eyes setting on the protesting follower. His hair was greasy and unkempt, his eyes small and dark, and there was a fair amount of stubble shadowing his chin. Next to Professor Malfoy he looked like something which had just crawled from the gutter.
"Ah, yes, Dolohov, of course. Because your contributions to our cause have been nothing but helpful, in trusting Mr. Bones here with information of our organisation. How could I have forgotten you?" Lord Voldemort's voice was still smooth, a gentle hiss, though the dark threat beneath was all the more evident. The rest of the Death Eaters, save Professor Malfoy who merely smirked, chortled and jeered under their breaths as the man so called Dolohov flushed and looked down.
"I did not know he was working for Dumbledore or the Ministry for Magic, my Lord," he muttered dully.
It was possibly the perfectly calm demeanour of Lord Voldemort which scared Narcissa most. He seemed to have no emotion whatsoever. Even when he raised his wand and whispered, "Crucio," no sign of any feeling flickered over that pallid complexion.
Dolohov's screaming came instantaneously. He doubled up and sank to his knees, his limbs flailing and head thrown back in a cry of utmost terror. He fell onto his side, twitching and writhing in utter agony, his screaming indicative of the excruciating pain. The other Death Eaters moved away from him, their eyes flicking between Dolohov and their Lord. For the first time, Narcissa noticed how Professor Malfoy looked scared, just before she noticed her eyes were brimming with frightened tears. Her legs gave way and she sank to the ground, choosing to witness the proceedings from the floor lest she passed out. She was not used to men appearing so weak. A man showing such pain was unusual to her, who had grown up taught that men were the strongest of all creatures, powerful and to be heeded at all times. To stare upon Dolohov's tears, his mouth wide as he shrieked, scared her more than Lord Voldemort himself.
By the time Lord Voldemort had lifted his wand away and brought an end to the curse, the children and their grandparents had awoken. Seemingly haven used up all of their own screams and tears, they merely watched, the children still slowly rotating. Louisa stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a tray with glasses of water shaking in her little hands.
"Ah, how gracious of you, Mrs. Bones," Lord Voldemort declared, as she cautiously approached and placed the tray on the mantelpiece. She kept her head down so not to look at the faces of any of the Death Eaters. "I have told you before, my faithful followers," Lord Voldemort continued as Dolohov was pulled to his feet by Crabbe and Goyle. He looked exceptionally pale, like he was about to be sick. "That to please me will bring great rewards. But, if you prove to be a liability you will be punished.
"Now." Lord Voldemort rose from his chair, a fluid motion which looked like a fish darting in water. He was tall, perhaps just a little shorter than Professor Malfoy, but enough to loom over the bound form of Edgar. He traced his wand over the man's face. "Such a pity, Mr. Bones, that you have such a strong sense of duty to Albus Dumbledore. You have managed to keep you and your family in captivity for over a month without giving in and denouncing your faith in him. Admirable."
Edgar stared up into Lord Voldemort's face, his mouth set into a scowl. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as though from misuse. "You shall never defeat Albus. You will not rise to power, and I will help make sure of it. My entire family and I are dedicated to the cause."
Narcissa's head snapped to the Death Eaters as they chortled darkly. She noticed that Louisa, who was still lingering by the mantelpiece, unsure of what to do with herself, did not seem to agree with Edgar's words. Her face betrayed an expression of hurt. Narcissa could see why, for if her husband chose a withered old fool over her in such a situation, she would not be particularly happy either.
"Ah, yes, this lovely family of yours. Quite charming, aren't they, Mr. Bones?" He looked over at Edgar's parents, touching Nancy's face with his fingertips.
Nancy recoiled and whimpered. "Please don't hurt my wife," Daniel murmured just as hoarsely as his son, eyes flickering around as though uncertain where to fix them. They didn't seem to agree with Edgar's resolute obedience to Professor Dumbledore either.
"Tell me," hissed Lord Voldemort, looking back to Edgar. His fingers continued to stroke Nancy's cheek. "How long until that changes? How long can you let your family endure before your loyalty to Albus Dumbledore expires?"
"Never," Edgar growled. It what seemed like a lot of effort, for he appeared highly dehydrated, he spat at the Lord's feet.
Lord Voldemort regarded Edgar quite moderately for a moment. They way he did so forcibly reminded Narcissa of one summer when a dragon fly had flown in through Bellatrix's bedroom window. The look in his eyes as he stared at Edgar was reminiscent of the one she had bestowed upon the bug, right before she began to pull its wings off. "Surrectum," he whispered, merely twitching his wand.
The invisible ropes which bound Edgar appeared to move, for the effects of them physically tightening around his flesh was quite evident. He winced but allowed no sound of pain to be emitted, until the ropes appeared to wrap around his neck. He breathed in deeply, only to choke on the inhalation as the ropes tightened, constricting around his windpipe. He tried his hardest not to struggle, but his survival instincts caused him to twitch and writhe in his chair, gasping for air like a fish out of water, about to succumb to a fisherman's knife. Narcissa could see his throat being crushed under the force of the constrictions, and jerked her hands up to hide her face behind them, only to realise that she was too absorbed in wanting to know what happened next that she couldn't bring herself to do it.
"No!" shouted Louisa, from over by the fireplace. She jerked forwards, as though she was about to try and help her husband.
"Karkaroff, restrain her," Lord Voldemort commanded simply, not taking his eyes from Edgar. A Death Eater beside the woman with a straggly goatee and long, dark hair immediately lashed out, one hand clamping over Louisa's mouth and the other grabbing her wrist. He was obviously strong, for she immediately stilled, glancing reproachfully at him before returning to look in horror at her husband.
Edgar's eyes were rolling up into the back of his head by now, his children sobbing softly for their father and his parents whispering, "Please, please stop this." The sounds escaping his gaping mouth were like those of someone screaming underwater, and his body was thrashing in the throes of imminent death. However, Lord Voldemort seemed to decide that he didn't want Edgar falling into darkness yet, for when he released the curse and the ropes around Edgar's neck disappeared, Narcissa would bet everything in her father's Gringotts vault that it was not because of the continuous pleas of Edgar's family.
As Edgar gasped, choking upon deep breaths but sucking them in like bread given to a starved man, Lord Voldemort left him, instead pacing idly to where the children were, levitated and rotating in the middle of the room. He stared up at them with polite interest, as though he had never seen them before.
"Now, Mr. Bones, I, above all, am a merciful Lord," Lord Voldemort spoke, slowly and clearly, as he stared up at the children, "and I am willing to forget your previous mistakes against me if only you join me. Become one of my followers, and I shall allow you and your family to see another day." Through ragged breaths Edgar stared up at the Lord, trembling. "Otherwise." He said nothing else. He didn't have to.
Edgar seemed to physically struggle with this proposal. His head turned to look at his parents, who were staring resolutely at the ground. He looked up at his children, still slowly turning, and over to his petrified wife. His brow furrowed and he bowed his head. "I cannot. My allegiance is with Albus Dumbledore."
Lord Voldemort waited patiently, as though expecting Edgar to change his mind at any moment. "Crucio," he hissed simply. The little boy, Alfred, immediately started shrieking. His body writhed and his mouth opened wide in a high-pitched scream. Tears tracked steadily down Narcissa's cheeks as she watched. The boy was making words within his cries, screaming for his papa, who stayed silent. He was staring hard at the ground.
"Leave them alone, you bastard, this is between us. Leave them out of it," Edgar spat at Voldemort, though the venom in his words was lost for he was still glaring at the floor. It was as though he was trying to block out his child imploring for his help.
Narcissa couldn't understand. Surely no allegiance, to anyone, meant more to someone than their own children. Yet there Edgar Bones was, staring at the ground with his parents crying silently at his side, his wife making high-pitched shrieks at her baby's pain. She was fighting against the grip of the Death Eater holding her. "Edgar, stop this now!" she pleaded, desperate, but Edgar seemed to not hear her.
How long the torture of Alfred lasted for was unknown to Narcissa, though by the time it stopped her tears had stopped, for she had none left. The boy had stopped screaming, and was only writhing and twitching, head lolling as he continued to rotate. He seemed to have passed out from the pain. Clearly bored without the sounds of mutilation, Lord Voldemort turned his wand upon the girl. "Crucio."
The cycle repeated. Edgar's tears were falling by now, straight down onto the carpet. He refused to look up. The girl was biting her lip to stop herself from screaming, as though to not hurt her father anymore, but by the time she'd bitten hard enough to bleed she could no longer contain it. The shriek was just as loud as her brother's, just as desperate to be saved. Still, Edgar did not break. Narcissa didn't know who she hated more, Lord Voldemort or Edgar. By the looks of it Louisa was suffering from the same dilemma.
When the girl was barely conscious, the curse was stopped. Stephanie's eyes were almost fully-lidded and her breathing was ragged. Lord Voldemort sighed, but it sounded mocking, as though for Edgar to have given up anytime before now would have disappointed him. The Lord reached out and touched the little girl's face, who whimpered and tried to move away, but she clearly had no energy left. She looked as though she was knocking at death's door. Louisa was still struggling against the grip of the Death Eater holding her, more desperately as Lord Voldemort traced his forefinger over Stephanie's brow, down her cheek and over her lips. "Nagini," he stated simply.
Narcissa wondered if this was some kind of password, or some foreign insult, for a moment, before she saw it. Moving. It slithered across the floor, a dark shape coming from the kitchen. She moved as far back, as close to the wall as she could. It was visible only from its scales glowing softly in the firelight as slid across the living room carpet, otherwise it was just a winding mass of shadow.
The snake, easily twice as long as Narcissa's entire body and thicker than her too, slipped up its master's leg, winding around his body and coming to rest with its head on his shoulder. Even coiled around her master countless times, the tip of the snake's tail was at Lord Voldemort's ankle. It was hissing, what sounded like affectionate whispers coming from its flickering tongue.
"Dinner," Lord Voldemort whispered slyly, and extended his arm towards Stephanie. She snake slowly began to slide up his arm, towards the suspended girl, who remained silent, clearly without the energy to scream anymore for a saviour that would never come.
At this new threat, however, his daughter's imminent demise and the knowledge that his family would die before his eyes, Edgar finally cracked. "Stop it!" he cried, fighting against his invisible bonds, "I'll join you, I'll do your bidding, whatever you wish! Just don't hurt my daughter anymore! Don't hurt any of them anymore!"
Lord Voldemort inclined his head towards Edgar and hissed once. Nagini stopped, but remained on her master's arm, which he still held extended towards the child. "You will join me? You will denounce your faith to Albus Dumbledore and be under my command? Aid the coming of a new age of untainted Pureblood?"
"Yes!" Edgar declared, his eyes wide, "I'll do anything!"
Lord Voldemort seemed to consider this for a moment.
"My Lord," came Professor Malfoy's voice. He stepped forwards. Narcissa started for, having been watching the occurrence with bated breath, she had almost forgotten the Death Eaters were there, watching just as tensely. He appeared nervous. "They are just children. Surely you can-"
"Are you questioning me, Lucius?"
Professor Malfoy stopped. He shook his head. "No, my Lord."
"Good. Now. Mr. Bones, your loyalty to Albus Dumbledore above your own family is admirable. However, it seems it is not only he who you are loyal to. I cannot have traitors among my followers, and you have not proven yourself to be particularly trustworthy tonight. How easily you denounce your following of Albus Dumbledore, with merely a threat of the life of your child. Such a shame." He sighed heavily, mockingly. "You had potential. Now, Nagini."
The girl seemed to register the snake approach, for she writhed in her bonds, terrified tears falling down her forehead, but she could not seem to coax a scream from her heaving lungs. Edgar was shouting, pleading for his daughter's life – "Take me, take me, spare them!" – while the Death Eaters observed with gritted teeth, helpless.
Narcissa was crying, her hand over her mouth in horror, as the snake's mouth opened, wide, to swallow the girl's head, and-
"No!" shrieked Louisa Bones, suddenly. With strength that Narcissa would not have guessed of her in even a healthy state, she gripped the tray she had recently carried into the room with her free arm. With a sharp tug she pulled it from the mantelpiece. The glasses of water fell to the ground, smashing in a crescendo which startled every occupant of the room, and Louisa brought the tray up to hit, hard, into Karkaroff's face. He let out a strangled cry of pain, pulling back and letting go of the witch as the sharp edge of the tray cut into his face and the full force of her blow caused his nose to instantly become bloodied. "Get away from my daughter, you bastard!" she shrieked, lunging forwards.
Professor Malfoy, who was still in front of the other Death Eaters, turned to see the commotion and gripped Louisa's wrist as she tried to throw herself at Lord Voldemort. He held her arm, hard, as she made to push past him, halting her in her tracks.
"Get off me!" she bellowed at him and, when he didn't, swung her hand back. Before he could stop her, Louisa had swiped, her hand smacking his cheek with a sharp slapping sound. The brutality of the motion forced Professor Malfoy's head to the side in recoil, his eyes closing and mouth down-turned in an involuntary pained expression.
Professor Malfoy let go of her arm in favour of holding his smarting cheek, and Narcissa had to silently congratulate Louisa for her final attempt of protection. Professor Malfoy, however, seemed to have taken it quite to heart. Narcissa could tell that he was really nursing his hurt ego, and had to make himself asserted again. The stupid little witch had to learn a lesson, and receive what was coming to her. Narcissa knew what was going to happen even before Lord Voldemort confirmed it; "Kill her, Lucius."
Before Louisa could even reach her little girl, before she could even finish extending her arms to wrench the child away from the snake's advancing jaws, Professor Malfoy had unsheathed his wand from his cane and pointed it at the woman. His face was livid, his jaw set, his eyes alive with malice. It was not the Professor Malfoy that Narcissa knew. This was the man with steel in his eyes, with no humanity left in his cold stone of a heart. That became all too apparent when he growled, in such a malevolent whisper, "Avada kedavra!"
A flash of green light, the pulse of powerful magic. Louisa was dead before she hit the floor.
Narcissa heard herself scream. She stared up at Professor Malfoy with wide eyes. He was breathing heavily, a handprint still visible upon his cheek. He began to look steadily more bewildered as he stared down at Louisa Bones, as though hardly believing he had done it. He had killed her.
He was a killer.
A killer.
A murderer.
There was a moment of utter silence. Nothing moved. Nothing made a noise. Then the only conscious child began to sob softly, whispering what should have been screams for her mother. Edgar bellowed for his wife, for his children's lives, cursing the heavens between dry sobs which wracked his entire body. Lord Voldemort was laughing softly. The snake slid forwards, its huge jaws finally settling on the child's head, who writhed but to no avail, for the snake seemed to be quite used to its prey being alive and wriggling. It pushed forwards with practised ease and took the girl's forehead into its mouth whole.
Edgar stared downwards, crying loudly and helplessly now, his eyes clenched shut, shouting how sorry he was as though to block out the petrified whimpers of his daughter. His parents were staring up at the scene, eyes wide but dry, jaws trembling. Their grief, their terror, was beyond response. They already looked as lifeless as Louisa's unseeing eyes.
Most of the Death Eaters were also staring up at the scene: a few, Narcissa noticed which made her stomach tighten, with a kind of voyeuristic pleasure in their eyes; a few looked quite indifferent, emotionless; a few were looking down or were averting their eyes in some other direction. Professor Malfoy was not looking up, but was staring down at the prone form of Louisa, as though wondering what on earth he had done.
The snake's work was slow and laborious. Narcissa could feel the acidic burn of bile rise up her throat, and had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep it down. Edgar had stopped screaming, blinded by tears and whispering a trail of apologies. He was no longer struggling. He was a broken man, and there was no point for him. Not now.
"Kill the spares," Lord Voldemort murmured softly. The men who looked like a Nott, Avery and another which Narcissa had never seen any feature of before advanced, pulling their wands from inside their cloaks. With an almost unison whisper of the Killing Curse, Edgar's parents accepted their deaths without a whisper, looking up into their killers eyes before the light died from their own. They seemed almost thankful. The little boy's life was ended by Nott and his bindings seemed to disappear, for he fell in a crumpled heap on the floor, his eyelids parted slightly to reveal a sliver of the glassy eyes beneath. In a soft whisper, another Death Eater over by the hearth whispered the Killing Curse, and it hit the little girl. Her bindings also seemed to fall away, for she crashed to the ground, taking Nagini with her. The snake didn't seem to mind, however, for it just slithered off its master's arm and continued consuming its meal.
At least one of them has an ounce of compassion. Better a quick and painless death.
The Lord didn't seem to mind the girl being killed quickly, for he said nothing, preferring to turn to Edgar instead. "And this," Lord Voldemort spoke softly, "is why you do not pledge your alliances to the likes of Albus Dumbledore." After allowing Nagini to completely unwind from him, the snake heaving and swallowing its current meal, he approached Edgar Bones. He cupped the man's face in his spidery fingers, lifting it. For an incredulous moment it looked so tender that Narcissa thought he was going to lean in and kiss Edgar. "For where is he now?"
Edgar stared up at Lord Voldemort. He was no longer crying, his grief beyond tears. He looked like a shell of a man. "Kill me," he whispered, "please."
Lord Voldemort smiled. A twisted, remorseless smile. "I told you I am merciful," he whispered, before turning his wand upon Edgar and, with a flash of green light, granting his wish.
The room began to lurch and spin, Narcissa's vision blurring at the edges. She thought she was going to be sick, until the colours and shapes began to disappear and swirl into one another, being flung through the world of nameless figures and faceless shadows again with the rushing in her ears, until, with one almighty jolt, she was back on her feet, on hard ground.
As soon as Narcissa found herself thrown back into Professor Malfoy's office, her knees buckled. She gripped the side of the Pensieve in a futile attempt to steady herself, but collapsed to the ground.
"Miss Black," came Professor Malfoy's voice, from so very far away. The room was swimming before her eyes, her head thudding and her stomach lurching. She felt, again, bile rising up her throat and retched, but found that nothing would come up since she had not eaten that day. Fresh tears were coursing down her cheeks and she sobbed hysterically, the cold air of the dungeons making the film of sweat covering her body even cooler and sending her limbs into fits of trembles and shudders.
"N-no," she gasped as Professor Malfoy leant down next to her. His eyes were wide, his brow furrowed. He looked scared. "Stay away from me. I-" She swallowed, gasped in a breath and, with what little strength remained in her, pushed his hand away at his attempt to touch her forehead. "I don't want you anywhere near me."
Professor Malfoy, seemingly torn between staying at Narcissa's side and doing as she wished, slowly rose. He swiftly moved over to his desk. Narcissa heard him open a drawer, but she had closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. It was pointless, for the darkness beneath her lids merely rocked and convulsed.
"Here," came Professor Malfoy's voice, and the feeling of something being pressed into her hand, "it will help with the shock." Narcissa, however, found that she couldn't move. She couldn't even open her eyes. She was lost in darkness, where all she could see were the last few moments of an entire family. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming.
Seeming to understand, Professor Malfoy patiently leant down, wrapping his arm around Narcissa's shoulders and lifting her upper body. She felt herself loll in his hold, truly a ragdoll. His free hand wrapped around hers, his fingers so securely enveloping hers, and she felt her hand being pushed towards her lips. "Drink," he urged, as Narcissa felt the cool glass of the phial against her lower lip.
She parted her lips and felt the liquid trickle onto her tongue. It was so cold that it felt like it was piercing the inside of her mouth, but she didn't mind the pain. Anything to distract herself from thinking.
She remained in the crook of Professor Malfoy's arm for some time, sobbing quietly. She felt, under the influence of the potion, her nerves gradually begin to calm. The darkness had stopped moving, and was devoid of any images, so she risked opening her eyelids. She stared up into Professor Malfoy's face, hunched protectively over her, eyes narrowed in his scrutiny of her face. "You're a murderer," Narcissa breathed.
Professor Malfoy took a deep breath in and turned his head away. "I didn't mean to do it."
She laughed once. It was a shrill, unnatural sound which was too high and, accompanied by a face devoid of all happiness whatsoever, was very out of place. "Get away from me," she whispered. Professor Malfoy sighed and slowly rose, after making sure that she could support her own weight in sitting up on his office floor.
"I knew I should not have shown you," he muttered, as he left her and seated himself in his leather chair. He replaced the empty phial in the second drawer of his desk and snapped it shut.
Narcissa laughed bitterly and shakily moved up onto her knees, in an attempt to stand. Her legs, though weak, were not trembling as much, and she managed to pick herself up onto her feet and stagger to the chair opposite Professor Malfoy. She sank into it.
"So this dark cult thing. Death Eaters. It isn't just that?" she inquired weakly, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.
Professor Malfoy shook his head. "It is much more than that. Much more influential and much more powerful." He paused for a moment. "Much more dangerous."
"So I gathered," Narcissa muttered, "So this…Lord Voldemort. This is your leader? And you are working for him? Giving him information about Professor Dumbledore?"
He sighed. "I shouldn't be telling you this." He searched her expression and sighed again, irritably. "And the school, yes."
"Why?"
"Because Albus Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard. The Dark Lord needs to know his weaknesses, so that in his rise to power he – we – have the advantage."
"Is this the only reason you have the job in the first place?" she whispered hoarsely, fighting another sudden wave of nausea. "Have you been spying this whole time?"
Professor Malfoy seemed to contemplate answering this. And then nodded.
There was a tense silence. "Have you ever killed before?"
"No," he retorted sharply.
There was another tense pause. "So, what now, Professor?" she inquired meekly.
Professor Malfoy shrugged. He seemed agitated. "I suppose it is within your power. Everything. You decide whether I walk a free man or rot in Azkaban. Whichever you think I deserve."
"Oh I know what you deserve," Narcissa snapped.
Professor Malfoy inclined his head humbly in acknowledgement. "Though to allow me to live with this on my conscience may be a fate worse than death, Miss Black."
She considered this for a few moments, before realisation dawned on her. In her nervous, trembling state, she began to laugh. It was a high, hysterical laugh which sounded completely foreign to her. Through gasps of air, rubbing tears of mirth from her eyes, she choked out, "So is that why you fucked me-"
"Don't use such language, Miss Black."
"-so hard? Your conscience was killing you, so you thought you'd get it all out into me?"
Professor Malfoy looked down at his desk. He didn't answer.
Narcissa continued to laugh hysterically, but hollowly. She had been right. When Professor Malfoy had fucked her over his desk, he had been taken over by a brutal, emotionless Death Eater. Little did she know that the Death Eater was actually he. He, in that cold mask, who clearly needed a lithe little body to fuck to snap out of his murderous trance. That was all she was to him. All she had ever been. A toy, to provide him with some form of entertainment.
Somewhere along the line, Narcissa's tears of manic mirth turned to those of hurt and, again, fear. She slumped forwards, her head in her hands, shaking. She could feel Professor Malfoy's eyes on her contemplatively. She hoped that his guilt was eating him from the inside, just as it was consuming her, and every ounce of something she may have ever had for him.
He was a murderer.
I thought he wanted me.
"If I informed Azkaban of the things you have done," Narcissa whispered, when she had calmed down enough to speak coherently. She still mumbled into her hands. "They would give you the Dementor's Kiss, wouldn't they?"
Narcissa heard Professor Malfoy's breath hitch just a little before he exhaled, long and low. "More than likely, yes."
She raised her head to look up at Professor Malfoy, only to find that it felt too heavy for her shoulders. She needed to lie down. She needed to sleep. Maybe in the morning this all would have been a nightmare, and Professor Malfoy wasn't a killer and Samuel Bones had all of his family alive and well and there was never any such thing as a Lord Voldemort. Maybe, if she wished hard enough, it would come true.
"I think I'm going to go to bed, Professor," she said dully, wiping her cheeks on the arm of her school robes. "I need to sleep on this. Excuse me if I'm too ill to come to your lesson tomorrow."
Professor Malfoy slowly nodded. "Wait," he murmured as she attempted to push herself out of the chair. He reopened his second drawer and pulled out another phial of the same very cold potion he had given her earlier, which she saw was a dazzlingly bright blue, and phial with a swirling, deep red potion inside. "Take a little of these each before you sleep. It will help to keep the dreams away."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him.
"Nightmares," he conceded.
She eyed the potions in his open palm for a moment before she leant in and snatched them from him. Without another word, she forced herself out of the chair and, thankfully having left her bag in her dormitory earlier that evening, stalked straight out of the door. She guessed that, in her current state, it would have just caused her to fall into a crumpled heap with the extra weight.
The common room was, thankfully, not all that far from Professor Malfoy's office. She leant on the wall of the dungeons for support, concentrating her every effort on putting one foot in front of the other, slipping the little phials beneath her school robes. If her mind wavered from focusing on moving her legs, she knew she'd fall onto the cold, hard floor and would most likely begin to cry and would not get up for the rest of the night. Would anyone miss her, though? She doubted it.
She shouted the password – "Solanum Celastrus," which Narcissa found difficult to pronounce at the best of times, let alone when she was trembling and half-choked by sobs – at the common room portrait repeatedly until it swung open, hissing indignantly. She attempted to make herself look presentable, more normal, as she half-staggered in, but there was really no need. Her usual group around the fire looked incredibly solemn indeed. They looked up as she entered, and sobered considerably more.
"What's happened?" Narcissa heard herself say. Was it Death Eaters? Death Eaters killed my entire family?
Bellatrix pointed to a letter. It looked harmless enough, sitting quite placidly on the seat of her usual chair, but the way that the rest of her acquaintances were looking at it seemed as though it may rear up and smite them all at any given opportunity. "Me and Andromeda got letters too. We assume they all pretty much say the same thing."
It can't be any worse than what you saw tonight.
She picked up the letter and sank into the chair, tearing the envelope apart with trembling fingers. It was lucky really, for clearly everyone thought she was just shaking with nerves from anticipation of what could be within the envelope. Narcissa was more than conscious of everyone's eyes on her, however. She didn't like it.
As soon as she removed the letter from the envelope, she recognised her mother's handwriting and knew then it couldn't be good. She wasn't wrong.
Narcissa,
Your father and I, naturally, have thought long and hard about a potential suitor for you. It seems that sending you to Hogwarts was beneficial after all, however, for parents of one Tobias Edwinus Crowley – supposedly in the year above you in Hogwarts if I heard them correctly – have recently contacted us, expressing their son's interest in you.
They are a middle-class, respectable and Pureblood family. Tobias sounds a very well-mannered boy and very good husband and father material. He will go far, and make the head of a fine household. Too bad he is not more wealthy, but beggars and choosers etcetera.
We have already signed the marriage certificate on your behalf. You are to be married next year, after his graduation. You will have no reason to continue your studies in Hogwarts with a husband, so you also shall not enrol past next year.
You are hereby betrothed, Narcissa. Your father and I have taught you how to behave to a husband, and we expect you to begin here. First impressions are everything, Narcissa, and we do not want his family pulling away from this agreement. He is a perfect suitor. It is most convenient.
Respect and honour him like a good wife.
With kind regards,
Druella
Narcissa's breath caught in her throat. She read the letter once. And then again. And then again.
"No," she whispered, "it can't be true." She looked over the piece of paper at the regretful expressions of her sisters, the sober complexion of Rodolphus as he idly blew smoke from a Flintley's into the hearth. Only Maurice looked somewhat indifferent at the proceedings, as though Narcissa should be overjoyed at the news.
It's a sick joke. A sick joke. No one would ever really write to their parents demanding a girl's hand in marriage. They wouldn't.
But then, her mother never joked. Ever. And it was most certainly her mother's tidy, precise handwriting. Just how she liked everything, tidy and precise, including her daughters. Or the only daughter who would listen. A tidy and precise wedding for a tidy and precise girl to produce a tidy and precise family. Mrs. Narcissa Crowley.
Mrs. Narcissa Crowley.
She wanted to crumple the letter up and throw it into the flames. She wanted to stamp and scream and set Crowley on fire until there was nothing left but smouldering embers of him and his marriage agreement. She wanted to curl up and die.
"See, Cissa," said a voice directly behind her chair. Or was it somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of her mind? The room began to swim before her eyes, her vision becoming hazy and darkening at the sides. She fell back into the armchair, feeling very heavy and very numb. Her head lolled and her eyes closed, and all she could hear as she passed out was, "I told you I will have you."
I had trouble writing this chapter. Dire writer's block. But I wanted to get something done so let me know what you think.
Note: Solanum Celastrus is the Latin name of a poisonous flowering plant called Bittersweet. I thought it may be fitting, a little for the Slytherin common room.
As always, thank you for reading thus far. c:
