– Mistress Mine –
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Chapter Fourteen
For the first time since you started viewing memories in the pensive, you find yourself not looking forward to tonight's events. Still in high spirits from Slytherin's victory on the Quidditch Pitch, the other sixth years in your dorm swap animated conversation at the early hour. Quickly, you dress and make your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, where the conversation is more of a background drone.
You notice that the fifth year girls who were so concerned about your wellbeing throughout the past few weeks seem to have found a boldness in their spirit as they surround you at the Slytherin table. You find their interested gazes heartening as they hang off of your every word. You muse to yourself that you deserve their attention, since over the past weeks you have secluded yourself away from your previously lively social scene.
With a rare smile, you allow them to serve you your breakfast, and listen to their soft chatter. They seem to have heightened their endeavour to find topics to interest you and inform you about the latest Death Eater raid, supposedly involving your brother. They compliment you on your family, and seem in awe of your evasive warning to look for your own name in The Daily Prophet after your Hogwarts years are over.
Casually, you ask them about Ms. Connors. Your expectations of their astute fountain of knowledge are confirmed, as they sift through the gossip for you to find relevant information. Ms. Connors has been extremely occupied, it seems. You wonder if The Dark Lord has added to her tasks.
You will progress with the pensieve tonight. You will succeed in your duty.
You look around to see that you seem to be in a spacious suite – there are comfy sofas and a large fireplace, a desk with a chair, bookshelves covering one whole wall (and maybe a hidden entrance) as well as a large bed with the green hangings drawn.
The Dark Lord sat in an armchair before the fire, a book in his left hand, a glass of amber liquid on a table to his left and Narcissa sitting on the floor to his right, watching the fire, her body leaning against his chair as his right hand ran through her blonde locks absently. Her head remained in this prime position, though her hearing had not detected him flicking a page in the last twenty minutes, though she knew he was "reading".
Suddenly, he snapped the old book shut, and placed it on the table. Not being able to resist, she looked up, "My Lord?" She enquired after him.
The Dark Lord waited a moment, deciding on his actions before smirking and offering her a place on his lap. She graciously accepted, as she always did, and smiled to herself, wondering what else might happen tonight whilst he was in this mood.
He settled them and traced the neckline of her dress – she did not wear a cloak in his private quarters. "What do you suppose a suitable first mission for Ms. Connors to be?" He asked her.
She concealed her shock, and replied, "Perhaps a muggle raid? Or maybe just performing a few Cruciatus Curses or Imperius curses if you desire to see her torture before you see her kill." She suggested eloquently.
He thought about her answer and nodded in appreciation, "Very good, very good." He looked up to see her blue eyes smile delightedly at the praise. He felt a sting, what, was that pity?! The Dark Lord feeling pity after one young lady had showed him a hard past? This would not do.
He let his had follow the line of her figure to her hips, "Perhaps you should go back to your husband – maybe try for a spare to go with your Heir." He smiled, handing her her wand. She curtseyed and apparrated out, no doubt on a quest to find her husband.
You realize that The Dark Lord has told Lucius about receiving "favours" from his wife. You feel yourself stung with a tinge of pity as you realize that Lucius would give up anything to his Master, even in the knowledge that his wife was receiving His attentions whilst it was frowned upon for he himself to keep a mistress.
You imagine Lucius sighing and tossing his book aside, waiting to see if Narcissa would return tonight. You imagine him smirking as she enters his study after a knock and rushes before him to sit with him. Lucius' smirk widening as he opens her cloak to see she has already untied her bodice laces for him. You know that they will let fly each other's anxieties for the evening – Lucius forgetting to wonder if The Dark Lord had simply left his wife unsatisfied or simply found other entertainments. Although you shake your head, telling yourself it is all imagination, your newfound sense of pity only increases.
This time you feel yourself ready to leave The Dark Lord staring into the flames, as you enjoy the splash of cool air to refresh you in the common room.
Although you have only seen one memory tonight, you still cannot detect where the pensieve is heading. What message is it attempting to show you? You cannot understand why the relationship between Chy Connors and The Dark Lord could be so important.
Any valued Death Eater would be aware enough to show his respect for the situation when confronted with it, though you can not help thinking that this is not a task to prepare you for becoming a Death Eater.
You feel a sinking sensation in your stomach as jealously seeps through you. Your brother succeeded in his wish to become a Death Eater, though The Dark Lord has another task for you. You know you should be jubilant that you have been so singled out, though the intelligence in you wins out with the view that it will not be for your benefit.
Should you not be seeing memories of torture and skill; of Potion brewing and deceit, or of powerful knowledge known to none but the few unique individuals to which the knowledge is essential?
You can not derive your mission, your part in this sequence of events. How could the select Slytherins be of use to The Dark Lord? You know none of them have The Dark Mark, although their family is well connected with the Dark Side.
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Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process.
Acknowledgements
SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters.