AN: Hello lovely readers, and welcome back to another episode of... AMY WYMAN AND THE TROUBLES SHE FACES WITH DEATH AND DANGER EVEN THOUGH SHE IS A TEACHER... Yeah.. it's late...ignore the crazy... Anyway, I'm going to throw this out there, and it's likely not even true, but I may not be updating for a while, because I am (unfortunately) back in school, and already, on the seventh day of school, I am failing a class. I've never failed a class, ever, so kinda panicking right now, and so, I feel I should be studying like crazy and doing everything I can to get that grade back up. But because I'm weird, my panicking means that I'm stressed, and when I'm stressed, I write. So, even though I shouldn't be updating I probably will be. Enjoy my lapse in judgement.
Dedication: To my Daddy! Happy Birthday! Love you lots!
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Amy sat against the wall of the cellar, her back rigid as she defiantly faced the cellar steps. She had her arms wrapped around her shaking torso as the cold of winter seeped into her bones. She knew she was weak, and she knew she was tired, but she sure as hell wasn't going to fall asleep when one of those… those…madmen could come back at any minute.
Wind howled above her, shaking and rattling the house she was under and she looked worriedly up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if it would simply be better if the roof came crashing down on her so she could get the hell out of there, when the door to the cellar opened.
The witch immediately looked to the figure at the top of the stairs, and her grip around her chest tightened desperately. A blinding, bright light shone down from the house above, shadowing whoever it was that was standing in the doorframe. The figure was tall and his shoulders broad, and for a faint moment the witch could have sworn there was a gleam of red in his hair…
Unlike all the others who had ever descended the steps, this man rushed down the rickety staircase into the cellar, taking two steps at a time. From the light above, Amy could see that he held a wand in his hand, and a twinge of fear coursed through her and she shut her eyes as she waited for her next torturer to come upon her.
She sat there, her back pressed against the wall, her hands gripping at the sides of her torso with her nails piercing through her now thin clothing, and she prayed. She prayed to whatever the hell was out there to save her. To get her out of there before she had to endure the pain of another madma-
The figure was in front of her now. She could feel it. His heat was radiating off his body and her body leaned forward involuntarily to try and soak up the warmth. Through her shut eyelids, she saw the figure crouch slowly in front of her and she flinched, receding back slightly, hoping to find a way to escape from his sights, trying to find a way to-
"Amy," the figure breathed. "Oh Merlin, Amy." The witch's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound of the wizard's voice. It was low and soothing, but at the same time, there was something in it that set this particular man apart from all the others that she had been forced to see in the cellar.
Slowly and carefully, as though she were afraid she would be cursed – which who was she kidding, it was incredibly likely – and opened her eyes. It took her a second to grow accustomed to the light which was in the previously dark cellar and then her eyes met that of the blue-eyed wizard, and her breath caught in her throat, emitting a choking sound. She felt her heart race slightly, and her face scrunched together as she felt tears prickle at her eyes.
"C-Charlie?" Amy croaked, her voice hoarse and weak from the days of screaming and crying. Her eyes filled with tears of disbelief and happiness as Charlie nodded quickly before leaning forward to pry the witch off the wall and into his arms. She let out a sob of relief as his arms wound their way around her and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Ignoring the pain, the witch weakly raised her hands to wrap them around his neck, keeping him close to her as she tried to convince herself this was real, that Charlie was actually there with her. Underneath her frail hands, the witch felt Charlie's shoulders shake as his body was racked with sobs of his own, and Amy shut her eyes and pressed the bridge of her nose against his collarbone and breathe in his scent. Strangely, the witch was not met by the woodsy smell that was Charlie but instead was overwhelmed the smell of wet clothing as though he had been standing in the rain or in a damp, cold cellar for years. Amy however couldn't force herself to care and instead she focused on the fact that she was safely in Charlie's arms. She would be going home. Home to Hogwarts, to her apartment, to Charlie…
The wizard pulled away after a few more minutes, wiping hastily at his eyes which were swollen from the crying before he leaned in again to press a kiss to the witch's lips. His lips moved passionately over hers and she groaned, half at the pain that coursed through her and half from the feeling of his lips against hers once more. It had been far too long, and this felt far too right.
Charlie eventually pulled away, albeit reluctantly, and looked the witch in the eye.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you, how scared I was," he confessed. "I thought I'd never see you again." He raised a hand to brush away a strand of her hair, and the witch leaned into his touch, ignoring the fact that his hand was incredibly cold as though he had been outside or in a cold basement for some time.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again either," she admitted, and her voice caught roughly in her throat, and the witch let out a series of hacking coughs. Charlie's forehead furrowed in concern as she coughed and he looked her over, taking in the cold sweat that coated her body, the dirt that streaked her grey, pale skin, and the numerous bruises and cuts.
"We need to get you out of here," Charlie told her firmly, his eyes roaming over her face. "I need to get you somewhere warm and safe." He straightened up carefully, and his hands were clasped tightly in Amy's
"I'm always warm and safe when I'm with you," Amy told him wearily as he pulled her up from the cold floor and into a standing position. The witch hissed at the pressure that was placed on her aching muscles and she swayed woozily for several seconds. Charlie eyed the witch nervously as she attempted to take a few steps towards the staircase only to stumble and almost fall. Immediately, Charlie's hands moved to her waist and he gripped her hips in his hands to steady her.
She straightened up again and made to take another step but Charlie had already decided that she wouldn't make it a few steps never mind an entire staircase and the walk through the house above. Instead, the wizard looped one arm around the witch's waist and the other under her knees so he could scoop her into his arms. The witch started to protest but stopped as the rush in her head faded away and the ache in her muscles receded as well. Quietly, the witch eased back into Charlie's arms and wrapped her arms around Charlie's neck to secure herself. With her face pressed against his chest, she looked up at him with wide eyes.
"I love you so much," she told the wizard as he began to make his way to the steps.
Charlie looked down and smiled softly at the witch.
"I love yo-"
…..
The creaking of the basement door pulled Amy out of her, for once, peaceful sleep, and she gathered the strength to open her eyes. She groaned under her breath as she realized it was all a dream, that Charlie wasn't actually there to save her, and she huddled against the cool wall of the cellar, shivering as the actual cold, winter air seeped through her torn and ragged clothes. The warm jacket that she had been wearing the night she had left the castle was long gone and the witch was now left in tattered leggings and a baggy, soiled top. Her eyes watered as she remembered her dream and for a moment she could almost feel Charlie's arms around her while his body heat warmed her to the core. These thoughts were pushed from her mind as her muscles shook in pain as she lifted her head to peer at the figure that was slowly descending the steps towards her.
It was a common occurrence for there to be others in the basement with her, but most of the time, they had their wands turned on her with spells being cast upon her relentlessly. Amy didn't know how long she had been in the basement, shivering and shaking from cold and pain, but she did know that it felt like a lifetime. Several lifetimes in fact.
The witch ducked her head as the Death Eater approached her slowly, a swagger in his step as though he was a predator after prey. The wizard flicked his wrist and a small light lit up the room, efficiently blinding Amy as he knelt down next to her. Amy looked blearily up at him and was just able to make out the leering face of Avery in the dim light of the wand. Involuntarily, the witch shrunk back, ignoring the painful quivers in her muscles as she did so.
"Hello, princess," Avery greeted jovially, smiling a cruel, simpering smile. "Enjoying yourself down here?"
It took all of Amy's strength to glare at the wizard with as much contempt as she could muster, and the wizard chuckled at her weak attempt. She flinched as he raised a hand to brush away a strand of her now dingy hair. He stroked her matted hair for a moment, as though she was a dog before he gripped her jaw in his calloused fingertips, keeping her eyes on his.
"Still trying to look brave, princess?" He asked, shifting down so that he had a knee pressed painfully on top of her leg. She winced at the pressure he placed on her body but still attempted to look glaringly up at him. "I think we've already proven that there's not a single trace of bravery in you, what with the screaming and crying like a baby. If you need a refresher though…" He trailed off as though waiting for her answer, but the witch knew what would come next, and she wasn't disappointed, as he turned his once bright wand on her and the ripples of agony soared through her body at lightening speeds. She could practically feel her muscles and organs shredding apart within her and it felt as though lava ran through her veins, and she couldn't stop herself from falling away from the wall and onto the floor where she began to wither and thrash about.
During her time in the cellar, Amy had experienced the cruelty of several Death Eaters' Cruciatus Curses, but Avery's was always different. His was always stronger, no matter the time of day or how long he had been using his power; his curses always hurt the most. Amy gathered that all of her torturers took pleasure out of what they were doing to her, but Amy suspected – correction: knew – that Avery was the most pleased by her vulnerable standing. He didn't just take pleasure out of her pain, he thought of this as some twisted vengeance for the simple fact that she had defied him, twice before, and survived. He hated her for being a Muggleborn and for her loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order, but that wasn't the reason her was doing this. No, he tortured her the way he did, with a vindictive smile stretched across his face and laughter escaping from his throat simply because he had something to prove. She had fought against him before and survived, which in his book likely meant that she had won, and that was obviously something Avery couldn't handle. Hence, he took his anger and embarrassment for having been beat by a Mudblood out on her, forcing her to feel the sting that he believed he felt. He would kill her eventually, which had always been in his plans, but first he would make her suffer. Make her feel the anger he had coursing through his veins for the simple fact that she was alive.
He pulled back for a moment, and Amy fell forward so that she was laying half on her side and half on her front as she heaved against the floor. She wished desperately to be able to cry, to feel something other than the horrific pains that were coursing through her, but she had cried all of her tears and there were none left for her to cry. Instead, she heaved and choked and panted against the dirty, rocky floor.
Avery cocked his head to the side and watched as the witch clawed at the floor, obviously still feeling the aftereffects of his curse racking her body. She whimpered as her fingers were torn open again by the rough floor and she retracted her arms to her chest where she eventually fell motionless except for the heaving, dry sobs that still racked her slight frame. She hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in days, and it was beginning to show beneath her ragged clothes.
From his crouched position, the wizard shuffled forward a bit, pressing his knee into the cool gravel. He slowly leaned down, his mouth so near to her ear that she could feel and smell his sour breath.
"I'm going to kill you, princess," he breathed. "I'm going to kill you, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me. You're powerless and weak, and it's not surprising at all. You are a Mudblood." Amy shut her eyes at his words, trying to block out what he was saying, but instead, the witch's mind began to brew different images of her body, mangled and torn, burnt and decaying, perhaps left to rot away in this basement or maybe left somewhere so that she could be a message, a warning to all others, that when you fight, when you're strong and dedicated and loyal, they can still get you.
Avery trailed his hand over the witch's face, softly, gently, almost as though he were her lover, and he slowly traced over one of the cuts on her face, ignoring her flinch at the sting. "I can't wait to cast that spell. I can't wait to watch as the life leaves your eyes and your heart stops beating beneath your chest." He trailed his hand down her face and to the rip neckline of her shirt. Without a pause, he slipped his hand under her shirt and pressed his hand against her chest, right above her heart. He pressed down slightly so that his nails pierced her clammy, slick skin, and she jumped slightly at the pinch. He withdrew his hand teasingly and now moved it so that he was gripping her wrist tightly in his hand.
"It'll be glorious the way your blood will slowly run from your body," he murmured, and Amy was reminded once more that she was in the hands of a madman, a psychopath. "But what'll be even more glorious, is seeing the look on the Blood-Traitor's face when he finds out he's too late." Amy's eyes flew open and she moved her head ever so slightly so she could catch Avery's eye as he smirked at her. "Oh yes, Muggle-Lover Weasley, what a waste of perfectly good pure blood, but he will learn and so will the others. All they need is to see your life-less form, cut and torn, bruised and battered and they will fall to their knees begging for mercy from the Dark Lord, I promise you that, princess."
He paused in his monologue as he looked down her body, and the pale skin of her rather unharmed leg peeked out from the torn cloth around it. Though bruised and slightly cut, it was mostly untouched, pale and clammy, but still unmarred, and a thought flickered in the Death Eater's mind and along with it came a smile.
"But before that," he breathed, "the Mudblood Whore deserves her brand does she not. Even the dead one." Amy looked on in fear as he reached into his robes and withdrew glinting silver. His smile grew even wider, even crueler as he leaned over the flesh of her thigh.
Her screams had never been so loud.
…..
"Enough!"
Charlie slammed his hands against the table, and the room fell silent as the Order members all turned to look at him. His normally kind eyes were filled with a bright fire as he glared stonily at the table and his jaw was clenched tightly together. A few of the others exchanged looks between each other, waiting for him to say something, but the wizard surprised them instead and pushed himself up. He spared no glance around the room before turning on his heel and exiting the room as quickly as possible. He paid no attention to Ron, Ginny, and Harry who all looked up at him as he brushed passed them in the front room as he marched out of the house, not even bothering to grab a coat as he did so.
The second the cool air touched his skin, the fire within him slowly ebbed away and the once rigid, infuriated wizard slumped, his shoulders falling forward and his face dropping into a devastated expression.
It had been three days since Charlie had found out Amy had been kidnapped, which means it had been six days since the actual kidnapping had occurred. Every day the Order members had been meeting up at the Burrow, exchanging known Death Eater camps and hideouts, but whenever the members thought they had the slightest bit of a lead, the ended up facing a brick wall with nowhere to go. It was frustrating and tonight had simply been too much for the wizard to handle. It seemed as though everyone was becoming flustered and they weren't thinking clearly. None of their ideas made sense and half of them had no real evidence to support that Amy may actually be there. They had no idea where she was, who took, or what was happening to her at any given second of the day. And while Charlie hated to think it, there was a great likelihood that the witch… that she could be dead somewhere and that thought choked Charlie up every time it ran through his mind.
That was partially the reason the wizard had stormed out of the toasty kitchen and into the frosty night. Moody, with all his pessimistic (yet realistic) views, had brought up the idea that perhaps it would be better for them to focus more on finding a new Death Eater camp than on searching for Amy's body. Body. That was the term the Auror decided to use in front of them. Clearly, Mad-Eye assumed that finding Amy alive was a waste of time and it would be better to take advantage of her kidnapping and hunt down more of You-Know-Who's followers. The man had not taken into consideration that one of Amy's best friends, Tonks, and Amy's boyfriend was in the room at the time. Even the idea of Amy hurt or alone in some dark, lonely place was enough to bring stinging tears to Charlie's eyes and he supposed that Mad-Eye's harsh, possible reality was too much for him to handle.
Of course, it didn't make it any easier that today, this winter, snowy night, marked that Charlie and Amy had been together for a year. Somehow, Charlie hadn't thought that this day would go exactly like this. He had thought about a dinner, fancy or homemade he didn't know, or sitting with Amy wrapped in his arms or anything with his witch really. Most of all, he had thought she would actually be there with him.
With a sigh, the wizard made his way off the porch and slowly trudged through the snow ridden tracks around the house. It was snowing and freezing but Charlie couldn't care less. All he could think about now was the possibility that Amy may be…dead. He had been telling himself over and over that she was alive somewhere, that she had to be out there, scared, but alive. Now however, his thoughts were being infiltrated by images of Amy's lifeless form.
Merlin, he wished he had been there. He wished he hadn't fought with her and that he hadn't been in Romania. He could have been there to meet her, he could have walked with her, gone home with her, and he could have been there for her. He should have been there for her.
Behind him, Charlie heard footsteps crunch in the snow, but he didn't turn around to see who was following him. The Burrow was under protection and only those who knew the location of the Burrow could actually be on the grounds, so he assumed that it must be one of his siblings or a member of the Order.
Charlie was proven right as a head of Weasley red hair bloomed out of the white night and trees. The wizard glanced momentarily at the hair before facing forward again as he leaned against a nearby, knobby tree. He stayed quiet as Bill did the same, finding a place against a tree of his own just a few feet away.
No words passed between the two for several minutes, as they watched the snow fall around them. After a moment, Charlie heaved a sigh and let his head fall back to hit the bark of the tree with a thud. He saw Bill look over at him from his own tree and adjust himself so that he was facing his younger brother.
"We're going to find her, you know," Bill started quietly. He toed the snowy ground under his boots as he watched his brother's slumped form against the tree. "You can't give up just yet."
Charlie's jaw clenched, and he swallowed heavily. "How can I not?" he choked out. "You heard what Mad-Eye said. He's not concerned about finding her, but finding her body."
"Mad-Eye's just that," Bill protested, crunching his way through the snow towards his brother. "He's mad. He doesn't know what he's saying half the time and what he does say is always some form of a conspiracy. He's paranoid and chooses to focus on the negative outcomes."
"Just because they're negative doesn't mean they're not realistic," Charlie shot back, tears welling up in his eyes. He looked up at his brother, not caring that he was completely vulnerable in that moment. If he couldn't be honest with his big brother, if he couldn't share his fears, then who could he share them with? It wasn't like Amy was there for him to mull his feelings over with.
"And the positive outcomes are just as realistic," Bill countered. "We know who Amy is. We know that she wouldn't give up. Not on her life, or fighting, and certainly not on you. She's going to fight, with all she's got, you must know that."
Charlie breathed, a strangled half sob stuck in his throat. "Of course I know she would fight," Charlie said. "But with what she's up against that doesn't mean she would live." A few tears washed down his cheek and Bill didn't know what to say. Charlie had always been the one brother he could count on to have a positive outlook on everything. It seemed as though he was always happy, like he always had something to smile about and now… now it was like he was a completely different wizard.
Bill supposed love could do that to a person.
Silence fell between the two again, and they listened for a moment to the wind whistling through the snow-laden trees. Charlie breathed heavily as he tried to regain his thoughts and calm the fire burning within him. He hated himself for thinking all these terrible thoughts but at the same time, he couldn't help it. Not after Moody had poisoned his mind with the thoughts of Amy lying dead somewhere.
"It's been a year," Charlie stated, breaking the silence after five minutes or so. Bill looked at him curiously, his pony tail swinging over his shoulder. The faintest of smiles crossed his face as he looked over at his brother. "It's been a year since we got together. She showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night. It was after a mission that Dumbledore had sent her on." He let out a breathy laugh and Bill cocked his head at him.
"She showed up at my doorstep, sopping wet, snow still in her hair, and covered in bruises, but she was so calm about it all," he explained. "It was like she didn't even know that she had bruises left, right, and center. She basically jumped me the second I opened the door, didn't even give me a chance to really ask any questions or figure out what she was doing there. It was the first time I had seen her in almost half a year, and then suddenly she's on my doorstep telling me that she had feelings for me, that we should have been together from the moment we kissed."
Bill laughed quietly. "Sounds like Amy," he chuckled, quickly storing this story away in his mind. Charlie had never really explained how the two had gotten together, only that they had been together since their dad had ended up in the hospital.
"She's one of a kind, after all," Charlie muttered, running a hand through his now damp hair. He paused, his thoughts trailing away from the night Amy had come to his home. "I miss her," he admitted quietly. Bill looked at his brother, his mouth pursed together forlornly.
"I know," he told him. He stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder consolingly. "We'll find her. We promised we'd find her, and we will."
Charlie opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as someone came running through the trees towards the two Weasleys. The redheads turned and watched as Tonks skidded to a halt in front of them, grabbing onto the bark of a tree to steady her. They watched as she breathed heavily for a few minutes, her eyes wide and her hair slightly brighter than when they had left the kitchen.
She finally righted herself and looked at the oldest Weasley kids, her eyes shining for the first time in days without tears.
"We have a new lead," she panted. She looked at Charlie, her eyes hopefully. "They think it's real. They really think this time it's real."
…..
Avery pushed himself up into a standing position, his eyes uncaring as he wiped his bloodied dagger on the cloth of his pants. He looked disdainfully down at Amy, who was sprawled out on the cellar floor. Her face was incredibly pale, the palest it had ever been, and tear tracks were stained into her face. Her eyes were opened wide as she stared at the ceiling above her, no emotion in her eyes and her lips parted with heavy breaths.
Avery smirked down at her. "Must go, princess," he told her loftily, looking at the hands which were coated in blood, her blood. He tsked in irritation at the thought of her blood underneath his nails, and he began to pick at them. "Until next time."
Amy said nothing as the wizard made his way up the creaky stairs. All she could focus on, all she could comprehend was the burning ache in her thigh and the feel of blood trickling down onto the cellar floor. She could almost feel Avery's knife carving into her flesh as he dug one word into her skin.
Mudblood.
…..
AN: I hope I tricked you at the beginning there... thought that would be evil of me, so I hope it was. Actually, I hope this entire chapter was evil. I'm not really an evil writer, so I hope this chapter changes that a bit... I also thought that the whole Mudblood in leg thing would be interesting, and I know it happens to Hermione in the movie, but who's to say that it didn't happen to more than one Muggleborn? Even if Avery is not the deranged but infamously loved Bellatrix Lestrange...
Hope you enjoyed it and don't forget to review! I got a lot of wonderful reviews last time, and I'm so grateful for them all! Particularly the one that told me I sucked for the cliffies... You are all welcome, and I'm glad I made you feel all the feelings.
Signing off,
WiseGirl
