A/N: Hey folks :-) Just one chapter for you this time. I hope you like the new avatar for this story :-) Just to warn you that this chapter has some descriptions of physical violence (nothing too graphic, I hope). Voldemort, not in control of both himself and his situation, is not pleasant. SA
'Fleeting, enshadowed,
Thou art privy to my sin
Secrets dead, wouldst thou inflict
The cruel daylights upon my skin?
Dost thou not want to worship me
With crimson sacrifice?
So my body may twitch against thy kiss
And weep with new-found life?
Red roses for the Devil's whore...'
"Gothic Romance (Red Roses for the Devil's Whore)" - Cradle of Filth
Thursday 31st August 2000, 4pm
'Aah!' He cried out and moved his body slowly. His limbs felt stiff and his vision blurred. Blinking several times to clear his sight, he eventually looked about to study his surroundings. Where was he? His brain felt muddled and he desperately wanted back his control of it. He felt vulnerable and exposed, and it frightened him. Think! he shouted at himself inside his head. Remember what happened! He could sense that the information he needed was just a whisper away, hiding from him.
Voldemort winced as he began to push himself up from the floor and into a sitting position. He looked about him once more and remembered where he was. He was in the girl's room. He gasped as the memories flooded into his consciousness. Shuddering breaths travelled through his body at the assaults upon his mind. She had told him that she had allowed that blood traitor to have her! She had laughed at him, taunted and insulted him! She had dared to use her magic against him! He felt his fury rise up.
Whore! He screamed the word at the images of her that infected his mind, breathing heavily through his slitted nostrils. She was tainted for him now...the memories of her that pleased him were now sullied, and all he could envision was an image of her naked body beneath Black's. He recalled his dream all those nights ago, as he had watched over her. He should have heeded that as a warning that would expose her for the slut she truly was.
Seeing his wand over by the window, Voldemort began to shakily raise himself to his knees. His hand gripped the bedpost to steady himself, and he inhaled another breath. There were still gaps in his memory that were teasingly evading him. Once he felt steady, he walked to the window, bending down to pick up his wand and grasp it tightly. Where was she? He was going to destroy her! He let out a small moan as another memory returned to him. She was pregnant!
Walking over to the bed he sat down. He had thought the child inside her was Black's, and had been about to kill her, but somehow he'd been rendered unconscious. She and child had infiltrated his mind. And they both swore an oath to him, but it had bound him to a promise he did not want to keep, and the constraints that bound him were frustrating. But he was a father now, the prophecy fulfilled and the girl carrying his child. And it was his child...he no longer doubted the paternity. But he felt impotent that he must tolerate the presence of the parasite that was his wife for another few months. After the birth he would find some way to destroy her and the toxic effect she had on him.
A small sound distracted him. It came from near the wardrobe, and getting up from the bed, he strode over. He was feeling more like himself again now, although he remained perturbed by his collapse, and still had no recollection of how it had occurred. The wardrobe door was open and he peered inside. He grimaced at the elegant dresses he had chosen for her; they fitted her perfectly, it having been his specification that they be made to show off her body, especially her back. Colours of varying shades of blue, green and purple that complimented her amber eyes, creamy skin and auburn hair. He had taken great pleasure in running his hands through that hair and enjoying the sensation when it had trailed against his skin...
'No!'
It was over. This whore of a wife of his was no longer going to have a hold on him like she had. Hearing another small intake of breath respond to the sound of his voice, he slammed the door of the wardrobe shut, the hangers rattling. There, in the space between the wardrobe and the wall, he saw her. Huddled as far against the wall as she could be, with her legs pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them protectively. Her head was cast downwards and she was trembling slightly. He moved closer to her until he towered above her, watching as she froze and then slowly raise her head until her eyes met his. She looked through him, her expression haunted.
He grabbed her by the left wrist roughly pulling her up. She cried out as she banged her side against the corner of the wall, but he didn't care. Taking hold of her by the throat and slamming her against the wall, she let out a breath as the force used winded her.
Stop it!
He heard the small voice inside his head, but he ignored it. His eyes boring into her, his face inches from hers, yet still she was elsewhere. He removed his hand from her throat and dealt a hard slap across her face.
'Look at me, whore!' he yelled, and she let out a gasp of pain.
You're hurting my mummy!
The voice invaded his head again.
Be quiet!
Voldemort screamed at the voice inside his head, fighting the faint pain in his own body. She raised a hand to her throbbing cheek and her concentration was finally fixed upon him.
'Tell me everything, whore...what have you done to me?'
He gripped her upper arms tightly, taking pleasure in digging his nails into her skin and making her wince.
'I haven't done anything to you...you collapsed... it was nothing I did.'
He heard the slight quiver in her voice, the slight noise as he pulled her away from the wall and slammed her back against it.
Stop, father...you promised.
The small voice pleaded with him again and Voldemort felt the pain becoming stronger. Rose sensed that her baby's pleas were not helping.
Stay silent, he is too angry to listen to you. I can bear it.
His eyes were vicious as they stared at her.
'You said that you did not like of being addressed as "girl", well "whore" shall be your name now...do you understand me?'
The word he said was to now be her name, stung as much as any slap, but that was his intention. She wanted to cry, but she would not give him the satisfaction.
He slapped her hard across her other cheek when she did not immediately reply. He felt the pain in his body each time he assaulted her, increasing his anger further.
'Do not ignore me, whore! Answer me!'
Rose looked into his eyes and saw the hatred. She wanted to gouge out those eyes of his with her thumbs, but she swallowed down the violent thought.
'I understand you, my Lord. Forgive me for my disrespect.'
The words almost choked her, but she managed to say them.
'Very well...start talking,' he said after a moment.
'You collapsed suddenly, my Lord. I don't know what caused it. I felt your pulse to check you were breathing, and when I knew it was steady, I decided to wait a while to allow you to come around. I...was going to send for help...but I thought you would prefer me not to. I...also assisted you to connect with our child, my Lord...'
He bared his teeth at her, his eyes trying to pierce her skull.
'My child you mean, whore!'
He spat the last word at her again.
'I placed your hand on my stomach and you saw and spoke to him. We all connected together...do you remember it, my Lord?'
She studied his expression and watched as he remembered.
'Yes, I remember. I know now that he is my son...and you did right not to send for assistance.'
He looked thoughtful. 'How long was I unconscious for?'
Rose kept her voice steady. 'About half an hour, my Lord.'
His gaze was intense and Rose could feel him trying to invade her mind again. She willed all her energies into protecting her thoughts, and after some moments she knew he'd been unsuccessful when he scowled at her. He took hold of her neck once more, and pressed his forehead against hers with some force.
'If you have dared to deceive me about this, whore then I will kill you, child or no child!'
He spat the empty threat into her face, his closeness oppressive, but she refused to drop her gaze from his. The intense eye contact continued for some time, neither of them would break it. His breaths were heavy and her heart continued to beat rapidly. Voldemort took the breath from her when he removed his hand from her throat and clamped his mouth against hers with force.
The instinct to push him away was strong, but the impulse to respond to him overrode it. His hands grabbed her head, twisting themselves into her hair. Rose's own hands made their way to his back, stroking the muscle and bone. The kiss was intense and hard, deepening as their tongues met. Rose felt the rise of her power begin to work its way through her, along with the physical arousal this man created within her. He was succumbing to her...he could not resist his desire for her.
Voldemort's will and desire were doing battle inside his mind and body. His will ordered him to remove himself from her toxic presence, his need for her told him otherwise.
Just one last time, it whispered to him. Just one more taste of her.
Her intoxication of his senses began to erode the images of herself and Black from his brain. She was his and he wanted her. His body was up against hers with her breasts pressed against his chest. Their mouth's were still locked together hungrily as he removed a hand from her head and grabbed the back of her thigh.
She responded by wrapping her leg around him and he pulled her body away from the wall slightly, placing his other hand on her buttocks. She assisted him, and hitched herself upwards, her other leg encircling his waist, before he pushed her against the wall again. They broke apart slightly, staring hungrily at one another, the heat of the others breath warming their skin.
The breath left her body at the apparation, and she found herself beneath him and on the bed. Voldemort stared down at her, and she could see in his eyes that he was lost in her. She felt a dark joy fire up inside her.
'You're my whore...mine and no-one else's.'
She stretched out her hand, placing it between his robe, and on his chest. Her hand moved down to stroke his stomach. '
Yes,' she replied, 'I'm the Devil's whore.'
She did not know why she had said it, but she saw his eyes light up at her words. They widened as her hand travelled further down his body and her ministrations caused him to let out a sound of ecstasy. He lowered his mouth to kiss her again and she felt the shuddering breath travel through his body. Rose's neck suddenly arched, her mouth disconnecting from his to allow herself to cry out, as he responded in kind to the pleasure he was receiving.
'My Lord!'
Antonin Dolohov's voice, and his loud knock upon the door, invaded their pleasures. Voldemort wrenched his mouth from hers, let out a frustrated breath, and removed his hand from inside her.
'What is it Dolohov?' He shouted. 'I hope your coming here is important!'
Dolohov's voice travelled through the door once again.
'Forgive me, my Lord, but yes, I have most important news...I would not presume to disturb you otherwise.'
Voldemort stared at her as he answered. 'Very well, Dolohov. Go to my study and wait for me. I shall be with you presently.'
'Yes, my Lord.'
Voldemort's gaze was once again filled with his anger and hatred for her; the moment between them had gone. His hand gripped her face and he moved his own close to hers.
'You try to use your whore's tricks on me again I see! Well, no more! I will never again dirty my hands with the whore sullied by Sirius Black!'
He squeezed her face even harder. This is the last time I will ever touch you in this way!'
Rose felt a surge of disappointment inside her at these words. His mouth clamped on hers one last time, a muted scream sounding in her mouth as his teeth pierced the flesh of her lips. He pulled away and she saw her blood upon his lips.
'You will never again be in my presence unless it is necessary, and these four walls will be your home until the child is born...your only company shall be your guards and your servant!'
He removed himself from the bed, giving her another hateful stare before he turned away.
'You are nothing to me!'
She heard him spit the words out, his back to her. She despised herself for the way she felt at hearing him say this.
'Good… you are nothing to me either!'
She could not help responding to him and fully expected his rage to descend on her. He did not turn back to face her but she heard him exhale a breath and saw his shoulders slump. Then he was gone, the curtains and candles flickering once more at his departure.
The oppressive atmosphere left with him and she was finally alone again. Rose touched her lips, tasting her own blood, staring at the redness on her finger. She looked up at the ceiling, feeling the tears prick at her eyes, and hating herself once again for the unwanted disappointment she felt at his parting words. She began to allow the sobs to come out, needing to release the pent-up emotions created by the assaults on her mind, body and soul.
Don't cry mummy.
Her baby's small voice was the only comfort she had in the hell in which she now lived.
xox
Friday 1st September 12.25am
The serpent, Nagini nestled her head against her master's hand.
'What is wrong with me Nagini?'
Voldemort sighed and consulted his faithful pet. Nagini hissed disdainfully.
'It is that girl, masster! I warned you not to bring her into your life! She has sslithered her way under your sskin...you should kill her. Did I not say that the blood of Morgan Le Fay would bring you trouble?'
Voldemort stroked Nagini, and she responded to his touch once more.
'I know, my pet. I should have heeded you...the animals of this world are far wiser than us humans. But killing her is not an option...not even when the child is born.'
Nagini raised her head and stared at him.
'Why not, masster?'
But Voldemort did not answer the question and stared into the fire that burned in the hearth.
'Then if you cannot kill her masster,' Nagini persisted, 'You musst banish her from you once the child is birthed.'
Voldemort regarded his serpent.
'Yes, I shall.'
Earlier, in his rage, he had vowed to be rid of her. Now, that determination had waned considerably, and sensing this, Nagini was unconvinced by her masters reply.
'I have ssensed emotions coming from you when you are around thiss girl; emotions that I have not ssensed within you before. Tell me masster...do you like thiss girl?'
Nagini was the only living thing in his life that Voldemort trusted with his secrets and his true thoughts. This was the first time in all of their years together that he felt reluctance to voice the truth to her.
'The girl is nothing to me, my pet.' Voldemort replied, repeating what he'd said to Rose yesterday.
Nagini continued to stare at him, and Voldemort felt uncomfortable under her gaze.
'If you say so, masster...yet even now I feel emotions from you that contradict your wordss.'
Voldemort was perturbed and uncomfortable...never before had he felt this away around Nagini. She was too observant, and their bond meant that she could sense those emotions and thoughts he was now trying to hide from her.
'Leave me now. It has been a long day and I must rest.'
Nagini hissed and began to move away, but turned back to him.
'Very well, masster, I will leave you. But I will say one thing; thiss girl is weakening you, and she will be your undoing...you musst rid yourself of her.'
The serpent dipped her head to him and then vanished.
Voldemort sighed again, resting his head against his fist.
He was relieved Nagini had departed, for only he could know of thoughts and ideas that intrigued and tormented him. Voldemort felt his mind had been assaulted yesterday during his altercation with his wife. This was not solely her doing, his instincts sensing that another party had a hand in yesterday's events. His anger with her had once again dissipated, but the recollection of his behaviour was causing intense discomfort. It was not in his nature to feel regret...what was happening to him?
'Yes, master.'
Locksley, Voldemort's head House elf, roused him from his thoughts. He had called the elf to his study almost without thinking about it. Locksley bowed low before him.
'I have some orders for you Locksley...I know you will make sure they are followed.'
Merope, silently watching her son from the corner of the room, listened intently to the orders he gave the elf. She felt a little surge of hope spring up inside her chest. He was feeling regret for his behaviour towards Rose yesterday, but how would she accept the gesture? Merope sighed, knowing that Rose would not react to the gesture in the way her son would want.
She longed to appear before him and remonstrate with him. He had gone too far, his behaviour sickening her. But she could also see his torment, and she longed to take him in her arms and comfort him. Her spirit ached to hold him, the longing to be a mother to her son remained and had never left her.
His mind was in overdrive and he needed to let go. She wished that he would forsake his obsession to dominate and control the world, to prove his greatness. He had achieved all his goals but now he was consumed with keeping hold of this power he had achieved. It was going to kill him, and he would lose things far more precious than power.
She could see the strain in his face and body, feel the disturbance of his long-buried emotions. He continued trying to bury them, believing that he would repress them again with his indomitable will.
The young woman he had made his wife was responsible for the disturbance in her son. And Merope was hopeful and heartened by Rose's effect upon him. He was angry with himself for the way he had treated her, and Rose had hit him with the truth,. It had hurt him, though he could not admit this.
He never heard the truth from those he had assembled around him. Some of them believed what they were saying to him, but most of them flattered and fawned him, told him what he wanted to hear, because they feared him.
Rose feared him too; she knew how powerful and dangerous he was. Some would say she was foolhardy, others that she was brave. But she would not repress that spark and fire inside of her, and she challenged and stood her ground with him, however much danger it brought her.
Rose had held a mirror up to her son, and he'd glimpsed himself as he truly was. Others had tried throughout the years, but they had not penetrated the barriers that her son had built around him. That was why Merope knew there was something special, something different about Rose. But still her son was fighting against the truth he had seen.
Jealousy provoked his attack on Rose yesterday and his responses to this emotion were unreasonable, uncontrolled and vicious. She had been with him silently through the decades, but had never become used to seeing his cruelty. She wanted to grab him and shake him, chastise him for his behaviour towards his wife. And she blamed herself for the monster that her son had become. She had abandoned him all those years ago and had chosen death, leaving him alone, unwanted and unloved. She had failed as a mother, and she had silently witnessed the outcome of her failure for years.
Merope knew that Rose was more than just the woman to give her son a child; she could be his salvation and his redemption. She sensed that he felt something for Rose. It was not love he felt...she herself had denied him the opportunity of that... but there were feelings hidden behind the rage. And though he desired her reciprocation, he would not admit it.
She had observed him with the women he had allowed into his life. None of them had truly mattered to him, merely being outlets for his physical needs and for the usefulness they provided. Even Rose was a pawn in his machinations. But he had underestimated her...she was a mass of contradictions, pushing and resisting him, but then wrapping her body tightly around him. She had light and darkness in equal measures, but her light was the dominant part of her. Rose's spirit, character and uniqueness drew him to her, and Merope believed that her son had met his soul mate.
But he could not handle these emotions that now infected him. And because they had been denied and repressed for so long, they were now alien and uncomfortable for him. His twisted heart and damaged soul could only express hatred, anger and cruelty...these emotions were as natural as breathing for him. And his reputation had been built upon them. He was the Dark Lord Voldemort; this was his shield and his armour. The man inside did not want to step out of this shell he had created...he would be exposed and vulnerable.
Merope knew that he was driving Rose away from him, that he was killing any chance of salvation, and of her having any regard or feeling for him. Merope could sense that Rose was going to escape him eventually, and it would be very soon. She had her own son inside of her now and she was strong...stronger than she really knew. This young woman, her daughter-in-law, bael older than when she heself had been pegnant would not stay to let her unborn child be subjected to his father's cruelty and malign influence. Her son was going to lose the people that he needed, that could bring him happiness.
Merope hoped that the seed she had planted inside him would ripen very soon, before Rose found her way out. Bellatrix's arrival had been most fortunate, and Rose's focus had moved from escape to defending herself. The elf, Kreacher had left, taking the stone with him. But Merope knew that the Order would not give up trying to rescue her.
Merope had been pleased Rose had been prevented from escaping; she had thought that her son was beginning to let down his guard and was slowly succumbing to his feeling for her. But his discovery of her prior relationship with Sirius Black had caused him to retreat back behind his shell. She could sense that things were about to happen; that the state of play would change again, and her son would be made to realise that he did not, and could not control events.
She could see him seriously considering the idea that she had given to him and watched as he now began poring through his books again to see how it was done. Merope hoped that Rose would forgive her for what she had set in motion, that she would eventually understand that it had not been done to cause harm to her or her son. A mother would do anything to help save her child. She truly loved this young woman, and her unborn grandson. They were her son's salvation, and he needed to be saved from himself.
xox
Friday 1st September, 8.30am
'You did not eat your supper, me Lady...you promised me!'
Binky's worried voice pierced through the cover that Rose had thrown over her head yesterday. She had cried for some time after Voldemort's departure. She had cried for so many things; her baby, her family, Sirius, and her life. And she was sickened by herself. He had abused her; physically, verbally and emotionally, yet she had responded to and encouraged him when he had kissed her and touched her. She would have had sex with him if were not for the interruption of Dolohov.
How could she? Was he twisting her, or was this the way her nature had always been? Had he merely brought out a kink that had been lying dormant inside her? Then there was Merope Riddle's revelation crawling around her head.
Rose had cried silently and bitterly. As if she hadn't enough problems with her husband and Morgan Le Fay, now her dead mother-in-law had decided to join the family reunion and drop a bombshell. Merope had tried to speak with her again once her son had gone, but Rose, exhausted and emotional, had harshly told Merope to leave her alone. And she had obeyed her wishes since then.
Binky had arrived with her evening meal and Rose had remained under her cocoon of covers, telling the elf to leave her alone and take the food with her. When Binky had tried to encourage her to eat, Rose had snapped at the poor thing from under the covers, and she had squeaked in shock, before apparating back to the kitchen with the untouched food. Rose had fallen into a fitful sleep after that, and had woken up feeling groggy and parched when Binky had returned at around 10pm with a plate containing a piece of cake and a milky drink. Binky had extracted a muffled promise from Rose that she would eat her supper.
Binky stood staring at the huddled mass in the bed in despair. She could not go back to the kitchens with more untouched food. Locksley had already given her his disapproving stare last night when she had reported to him that the Dark Lady had not eaten her evening meal. Binky had been told by Locksley that she must give him daily reports on the Dark Lady; how much she ate, if she skipped her meals, and anything that she spoke about or said to her.
Binky was to talk to the Dark Lady, ask her how she was, and gather what information she could. Another elf, Lally was also to help, to give Binky rest times, But she was still to be the Dark Lady's personal elf. Locksley had said that the orders had come from the Dark Lord himself, and Binky quivered when he had told her. But inside she felt sad and angry; she felt like she was spying upon the Dark Lady, who she liked very much. She did not want to spy on the Dark Lord's nice wife for him.
Binky put down the tray of food and went over to the bedside table. The fruit cake was untouched and had now begun to dry up. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the large mug that had contained warmed milk with honey and grated nutmeg was empty. At least the Dark Lady had nourished herself and the babby with something last night.
'Please, me lady, please sit up and eat your breakfast...for the babby's sake at least!'
Rose could not ignore her any longer. She felt guilty for the way she had spoken to her, and Binky was right; the baby needed nourishment. She was a mum now, and she was going to be a good one. This little boy inside her deserved at least one decent parent.
Rose threw back the cover from her head and stared at Binky. '
Morning Binky.' The elf squeaked in shock at the sight that greeted her. 'Oh, me Lady! What has he done to you?'
Binky stared in horror at the sight of her mistresses's face and body. Her face and neck were bruised, her lips scarred with small, red indents, that she realised were teeth marks. Blood had dried upon her mouth, and it looked sore and tender. Her arms were covered in small scratches and bruises. Rose's face was sad, yet defiant when she looked at Binky.
'These are my battle scars...a present from the Dark Lord.' Tears filled Binky's eyes. Her mistresss's pretty face and body should not have such horrible things done to it.
'Oh, me Lady, its wicked, it is! But you can 'eal the damage with a spell...' Rose nodded curtly. 'I can, but I wont. I want anyone who comes to this room to see what has been done to me.'
Rose's expression softened after a moment. 'I'm so sorry for the way I spoke to you, last night...I didn't mean it. And I know I promised you I'd eat my supper...please forgive me.'
Binky bowed low. 'The Dark Lady should not 'pologise to Binky...Binky is her servant...' Rose sighed loudly. 'Please don't call me "Dark Lady", Binky...you know I hate it.' Binky, still bent over, began to apologise again. Rose knew that it was pointless telling the elf not to apologize. 'It's okay, apology accepted.' The elf looked up in relief and Rose smiled at her. Binky felt the warm glow inside her from the Dark Lady's smile. 'You are a good elf, Binky. Okay, I'll eat my breakfast now...I shall have Alecto Carrow's delightful company in an hour or so. Her face would put anyone off their food!' Binky squeaked out a laugh at Rose's comment and almost dropped the tray which she placed on her mistress's lap. Rose picked up a fork and looked at the tray which contained fresh fruit salad, scrambled eggs and toast. As she looked around her, Rose noticed that several vases, filled with red roses, had been placed around the room.
'What are the roses for?' Binky's wide eyes looked at Rose in confusion. 'Don't know, me Lady. Locksley gave the orders for them roses to be put in your room this morning...' Binky then pointed over to the window seat '...and them books as well.' Rose speared a chunk of strawberry and grape with her fork, and placed them into her mouth. The fruit was heaven for her parched mouth. She looked at Binky. 'Who's Locksley?' Rose asked. 'Locksley is chief of the Dark Lord's house elves,' Binky replied, 'And he takes orders from the Dark Lord himself.' Binky shuddered when she thought of the Dark Lord. Placing the breakfast tray to one side, Rose threw back the cover and groaned, as she moved from the bed. Her body ached all over, and she felt tender and sore. She rubbed her eyes and placed her hands through her tangled hair, until it became smooth once more.
Rose walked over to the window seat and sat down, picking up the first book. A sudden popping made her jump, and took her concentration away from the book. A large-eared elf stood before her. 'Good morning to you, my lady. My name is Locksley, and I am the head of the Dark Lord's elves. I am come to see how Binky is performing in her role as your personal elf?' Rose looked at him, if he was shocked by her appearance, he did not show it. He was very polite, but she did not like this elf...his eyes were trying to penetrate her. 'Thank you, Locksley. I am more than happy with Binky. She is diligent in her duties and serves me well.' Locksley smiled and bowed low. 'I am pleased to hear this my lady.'
Rose stared down at the book in her hand. It was an old copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. She turned it round in her hands. It was in good condition for it's age, but she could see that a corner of one of the pages had been folded down. 'Is there anything you wish to say on the new arrangements to your room, my Lady?' Rose looked at him. His eyes gave nothing away, but Rose knew that Locksley was not the one who wanted to know her thoughts on the flowers and books. She opened the book at the page with the folded corner, and read the words.
'That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, have passed a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.
O, that our night of woe might have remembered
My deepest sense how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me then, tendered
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.'
Rose could feel a harsh laugh threaten to spill out. Was this his idea of an apology? Did he think roses, and the words of Shakespeare would make right how he'd treated her? The words in the sonnet he had chosen suggested she had wronged him too. No, nothing could be his fault, he could not be the one who had done wrong. No, he was the Dark Lord, and he was never at fault. This was no true apology or genuine regret! The urge in her to tip the roses from their vases and throw them into the fire, along with the books, was overwhelming. But she did not do so, because she knew it would be reported back to him. 'Is there anything you wish to say about the arrangements to your room, my Lady?' Locksley inquired again. Rose closed the book, and turned to the elf. 'No, Locksley,' she replied, 'there's nothing I wish say.' The elf looked at her for a moment, then bowed once more. 'Very well, my Lady. I will go now and leave Binky to tend your needs.' He gave Binky a pointed look, and then apparated from the room.
'I know what the roses and books are for now, Binky.' The elf looked at her with her large round eyes. 'What, me lady?' Rose tossed the book on the window seat and walked back to the bed. She pulled the cover back across her and placed the silver tray back across her legs. 'They are meant as an apology. The elf's eyes grew even wider. 'A 'pology? From the Dark Lord?' Rose heard the disbelief in Binky's voice. 'Yes...but it is not good enough. An apology is meant to be sincere. And it should be made by the person themselves, not by flowers and books, brought by a servant.' Binky had covered her ears. 'Say nothin' more, me Lady... I have to tell Locksley everythin' you say!' Binky began to cry. 'So you've got to spy on me.' The elf sobbed even louder. 'Don't cry, Binky, its alright.' Rose opened the drawer of the beside cabinet, and pulled out a piece of blue cloth. 'Dry your eyes,' Rose ordered. The elf took the cloth and began to dab at her face with it. After some time, Binky quieted down, and made to give the cloth back to Rose. 'No, Binky, it is yours now, I have given it to you.'
Binky blinked her eyes at Rose. 'It's mine?' Rose smiled at her. 'Yes. Look at it properly. I have saved it for you, to give to you when the time came. I have a feeling that the time is now.' Binky began to unfold the soft blue cloth. She gasped in shock; it was a dress, and it would fit her perfectly. 'Me Lady...it is...clothes...you've give me clothes!' Rose laughed. 'Yes. I am the Dark Lord's wife, and you have been my elf. I am giving you your freedom, Binky. You no longer serve the Dark Lord...or me.' Binky stood staring at Rose in a state of shock, the dress still clutched in her hands. 'But...but, only the Dark Lord...only he can give me clothes...'
A voice from the corner of the room startled both of them. 'Mistress Rose is correct, Binky. The Dark Lord ordered you to be her elf, therefore he transferred your servitude to her, as his wife. She can give you clothes, and your freedom.' Rose let out a yell of delight. 'Kreacher!' Rose jumped from the bed, food spilling everywhere. Binky looked on in shock as Rose hugged the elf who had appeared from nowhere. They broke apart, and Kreacher spoke again, briefly staring at her face in shock. 'I must be swift, mistress Rose, there is much to say, and little time.' Kreacher looked to Binky. 'You are free now, and you may do as you wish and go where you will. But how would you like to help mistress Rose and her unborn child? She needs friends around her that she can trust. Can you be trusted with mistress Rose's secrets?'