XIV

A young Iris, of seven or eight, was sitting alone in a classroom. Draco smiled at how innocent she looked. She was sitting with her back extremely straight as an ugly woman lectured her about potions in German and Iris scribbled on a parchment diligently. Iris scribbled for a while until the bottle ran out of ink and she stopped writing.

"Accio another one, you are a witch aren't you?" the woman cried angrily. From the corner of the room a man stirred. Draco had not previously noticed him because he appeared to have unified with the shadows. The man was extremely handsome, tall, with strong aristocratic features and deep, demanding eyes. His hair was dark brown, but just like Iris' it had emitted a golden radiance. It was evident this man was her father.

The man walked to Iris and kneeled in front of her and said sweetly in German, "beautiful, this world is not kind to women, no matter how beautiful they are. Your mother died because she was unable to fend for herself proficiently. You must be self-sufficient. When you want something, get it; do not wait for it to be handed to you on a silver platter." With that the man leaned forward and kissed Iris' smooth forehead. Iris' eyes were sad and lonesome, showing emotion that Draco had never seen in real life. She accioed the ink bottle and continued her writing, neither the ugly woman nor the man noticed the single pearl tear that rolled down her cheek and plopped dejectedly on the parchment.

The scene changed and Iris was a few years older, around ten or eleven. She was reading a letter from Beauxbatons, thrill swathing her features. Her father was sitting by the fireplace watching his daughter's excited face. Iris looked imploringly at her father who simply shook his head and said in Latin, "what will they teach you there gorgeous? You have already completed the NEWT examinations; it would be a waste of time. Now go with Hetty, your bags are already packed, I am expecting a guest." Iris vacated her seat, her face downtrodden and followed the ugly woman from the room.

As Hetty carried her suitcase Iris glanced back into the room and saw Lucius Malfoy sitting by her father talking in muted tones. Iris pricked her ears as she heard her father say, "it would be a good match indeed, but how many languages does young Malfoy speak?" At which point Hetty grabbed Iris from and apparated them to the international floo network.

The scene changed once again and Iris was now thirteen or fourteen and her previously boyish figure had begun to fill out into her sumptuous curves. Iris was sitting with her back straight in the classroom as a different woman, who was even uglier than Hetty reprimanded Iris harshly in Chinese. Iris gazed at her nonchalantly with her beautiful eyes which were a deep navy. The woman screamed, "focus. Becoming an Animagi is hardly that difficult. Even for your meagre mind."

Iris simply laughed and replied, "I knew how to by the third day." She proceeded to transform into a snake and bit the woman whose cries of pain were overwhelmed by Iris' father's bellows.

"Know you place Iris," he roared and he crucioed her for a few seconds. Iris' did not cry but her face conveyed angst and anger. Her father dismissed her.

The scene transformed and Iris looked to be sixteen. They were in an opulent house in Russia. Outside it was dark and snowing, but inside it was warm and cosy as a fire cackled in the grate. Iris looked beautiful. She was dressed in a blood red gown with black lack, which embellished her curves. Her hair was in a bun and curled tendrils falling to her nape. Her lips were flushed and her eyes were an alluring navy. She sat with her back straight, beside her father on an opulent four poster bed with red silk sheets. They appeared to be waiting for something or someone. Iris' face was the mask of indifference which Draco was accustomed to but there was a slight, almost indiscernible fear in her eyes.

Then there was a small pop and Iris started, slightly. Voldemort walked out of the shadows. He bowed slightly at Iris' father then turned to face her. His eyes flickered red as he devoured her appearance, hungrily. Iris repressed a shudder and he smiled sordidly at her.

After a prolonged silence, Voldemort looked to Iris' father and hissed, "leave us." Her father bowed deeply, his eyes only flickering slightly towards his beautiful daughter and left, closing the door.

Voldemort moved towards Iris and stroked her bare neck. She winced at how cold his fingers were against her warm skin. Voldemort laughed cruelly. "Look at me, Iris," he hissed. She turned her face, which looked like fragile porcelain in its pale perfection and stared into his crimson eyes, fear in her eyes. Voldemort stroked her cheek and she trembled involuntarily. "Do I repulse you, my beauty?"

"No, my lord."

Voldemort let out a chuckle and hissed, "lies. I am proficient in Ligilimency, my dear, but I don't need it to see the fear in your eyes." He muttered and incantation his appearance changed and he became Tom Riddle, except for his eyes, which glimmered red with desire.

Iris gasped, her fear dissipating slightly as she wondered how he was able to change his appearance so quickly. Voldemort laughed brushing his lips against her cheek and said, "I am the dark lord, Iris, omnipotent. However, it is because this is the real me and the other is just a façade I adorn to frighten others." Iris wondered why he was telling her this and he chucked, "it is because when I screw whores like Bellatrix I don't care. However, I want you to want me. Who knows maybe even love me," he spat the word "love" and laughed once again and began to kiss her neck longingly.

Iris was frightened by the escalating lust in his eyes as he suffocated her neck in gentle kisses. Iris whimpered slightly with fear and discomfort as his kisses became increasingly harsh. Her neck throbbed under his hard sucks and she blinked, stoically trying to get over the pain. He roughly threw her onto the bed and ripped her dress off her, impatiently gorging his eyes on her figure, which adorned only silky red lace lingerie. He kissed her stomach and worked his way back up to her neck and hissed in her ear, "are you a virgin Iris?" She nodded, her eyes betraying her dread and bitterness as he harshly probed her mind and smiled satisfied. He ripped off her lingerie and his own robes to reveal a giant, throbbing erection. She stared, startled, frightened, helpless. He laughed, groping roughly at her ripe breasts and muttered a contraceptive spell.

He kissed her harshly down the expanse of her body and the roughly thrust his wand into her most sacred place and pushed relentlessly. Finally satisfied when she was wet enough he held her down, and forced his appendage into her, she screamed out in pain and fury that he had taken from her what was supposed to be a gift. He laughed maliciously and brutally pushed against her. He pumped in and out of her, his pleasure escalating as she turned her head to the side as she was blinded by the pain. A single pearl tear rolled from her eyes, which Voldemort did not see as he was too absorbed in his pleasure. Finally, he grunted as he emptied himself into her.

He laughed contently and callously spooned her and fell into a dreamless sleep cupping her breast.

Iris lay there as emotions coursed through her- sadness, shame, anger, hatred, fury and finally vengeance. Iris lay stiff the entire night, kept alive by her hat. She resolved to avenge herself.

She methodically pondered courses of action and concluded that revenge is indeed a dish best serve cold and there would be no point in resisting him. So when he awoke the next morning she feigned desire and his lust blinded him to the fallacy of her declarations. So she forced herself to scream in faux-pleasure as she rode him to climax, and she herself also climaxed and she hazily noted that it was nice experience. She smiled seductively at Voldemort as they both dressed, secretly wanting to vomit.

Voldemort announced to her father that he was pleased with her and told him that there were matters which he had to take care of and ordered him to come to Britain in two months time when the matters would be resolved and, "Harry Potter will be dead." He then dismissed her father and kissed Iris passionately, "until we next time, my beauty."

"Farewell, my lord," she smiled magnificently.

"Please, you are my lover Iris, call me Tom."

She smiled indulging his insane fantasy, "farewell, Tom." Voldemort bowed as he left her and disapparated. The second he was gone Iris' body slumped and she ran up to her room and stripped her clothes, scourgified herself and adorned her ugliest robes. She wanted to take a long, scalding bath to clean herself, but she knew that time was of the essence. She ran to the room of her teacher, an ugly old man, and said, "Pietre, please, you must teach me Ligilimency."

The old teacher who had heard the damned girl's screams of pains, nodded sadly and they set to work. Within three days, she became a proficient Occlumens, driven by her detestation. Only then did she allow her self to bathe and sleep.

The scene shifted and Iris was in a plush room and Voldemort was sleeping next to her on the expansive bed. She lay there probing his mind until she found Voldemort's most guarded secret, his six horcruxes. Iris pretended to wake the next morning shortly after Voldemort did. "Tom, I shall be in the library," she smiled seductively.

"Not before you satisfy me, my love." She subdued a convulsion, her face remaining a flawless ruse and she smiled adoringly.

"Of course, if you didn't suggest it I would have had to rape you."

He laughed, oblivious to the irony. As he pounded into her, she tried to drown out reality with thoughts of her many liaisons in Russia.

She went to his library and searched for hours until she finally came upon books about horcruxes. She memorised the incantations and instructions, for once thankful for her years of disciplined study.

She immediately went to her room and did the deed, splitting her soul and pouring it into a galleon, which she then put into a bag of galleons placed into her drawer. She then walked into Voldemort's room and once again, they had sex; and once again, she drowned it out with thoughts of Russia.

As Voldemort slept, she probed his mind for the locations of the horcruxes and memorised them studiously.

The next morning when Voldemort awoke Iris again pretended to stir, she grinned, a genuine, soul consuming grin, and said, "I dreamt of you, Tom." Voldemort smiled and kissed her on the forehead before one again screwing her, but this time she did not need to drift to Russia, she simply thought of how it would feel when, after destroying his horcruxes, she severed his appendage and killed him.