DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter. ALL rights go to JK Rowling.
AN: I'm not dead, I promise. Thanks for all the favorites and follows that have popped up in during my tiny hiatus; I won't let my time away run that long again. Please let me know if you're enjoying this story, I'd love to hear your thoughts which always encourage me to write faster.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Hello, Tom."
His grin widens at the sound of his name on my lips, devilishly handsome for someone so grim. He wears the finest robes, hair styled to perfection, looking suave as ever. If he weren't the most deadly wizard on the planet, I might even find myself, dare I say, attracted to him. Whatever dark magic he has mastered to maintain his young features is admirable.
"Sit," he orders, gesturing to the leather sofa opposite his chair.
I swallow hard as I cross the room carefully, taking in every detail of the room. The fireplace roars with life and above it rests a painting of the unforgiving face of Salazar Slytherin. I am certainly not surprised to see that this office holds a strong resemblance to my common room. Surely, Tom had been plenty inspired by it's aesthetic during his time at Hogwarts. The room is dark, save for the blazing fire and a small lamp beside his seat. The side table is adorned with a stack of parchment that seemed to have held his attention prior to my arrival.
Gracefully I take my seat on the couch, crossing my ankles and sitting up right; noting to bring forth the etiquette knowledge I'd absorbed from my past life. My manners seem to end there when I can't stop malice from passing my lips.
"I would appreciate you not sending your guard dog to fetch me for future meetings."
The Dark Lord looks surprised by my request with eyebrows raised. He places his papers on the table next to him and chuckles, "Technically he's your guard dog, not mine."
I grip the cushions of the sofa on either side of my knees, relaxing out of my uptight posture in agitation.
"I don't need your lackeys following me around Hogsmede," I bite. "It makes a spectacle that I aim to avoid. You already have my cousin and his friends stalking my every move and now I have a werewolf following me through town? Isn't that a bit much for someone hardly worth your time?"
Tom scoffs.
"Hardly worth my time?" He asks bemused, "Quite the contrary, Miss Petrovsky."
Tom stands then, walking his papers over to his desk. My eyes follow him closely, never leaving his back. He turns and leans casually against the mahogany, crossing his arms over his chest.
"If only you knew the plans I have for you, little one," He draws, eyes sparkling brightly. "Surely then you'd see why I prioritize your safety and comfort."
There it is again. The incredibly ominous tone in his voice that sets my teeth on edge; the tone that makes me wish I had never set foot in this country to begin with.
"Just seems like overkill if you ask me," I mutter, focusing on the rest of the room to avoid his eyes that are no doubt shocked at my nerve to challenge him. Let's be honest, overkill should be his middle name for more reasons than one.
I meet his eyes again nervously as he comes to stand in front of me. His amusement seems to wear thin and a line forms between his brows, "I will do as I please seeing as you embelong/em to me. You'd be smart to limit your questioning of my actions."
My self-preservation kicks in at the arctic sensation that falls upon me with his unrest, and I know to not push him further on the matter. I swallow hard and relax my hands into my lap. He smirks, noticing my movements as a sign of submission.
I pick at my nails, ignoring the hole he is burning into my face with his sneer. Luckily, glistening white catches my attention to the left. There is a garden outside a wide window, expanding as far as I can see, seemingly groomed to perfection. Surprising- considering Bellatrix Lestrange is the lady of this house; something tells me that she has nothing to do with the upkeep of her landscape.
It's snowing today, lightly but beautifully. The sparkling flakes hit the window one after the other, making me wish I were among them outside, collecting the speckles on my coat. The bitter cold of the weather is nothing compared to the algidity I feel in the presence of my future husband.
The clinking of glass pulls my daydreams of blankets of Russian snow. Tom is pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. He tilts one toward me in offering but I shake my head no. Alcohol in my blood would only inhibit my ability to defend myself, and I always need to be on watch while in the home of Death Eaters. He nods wordlessly, taking a sip of his drink. His movement toward me makes my heart jump in my chest as he holds out his hand for me to take. He smirks at my weary expression as he pulls me from my seat on the couch. He raises our hands above my head, beaconing me to turn in a circle as if I were a ballerina.
"Yes, these wretched muggle clothes simply will not do," He spews with distaste.
My clothes? He brought me here to shit all over my choice of fashion? For a Hogsmede day? In the middle of the winter? My eyes narrow at the absurdity. No one wears their school robes to a Hogsmede day. Was I supposed to wear a ball gown in the event I was pulled from my candy shopping by a werewolf dragging me to a multimillion galleon mansion in the country?
It's almost as though he can read my raging mind because I swear I see the corners of his lips curving upward.
"Lestrange!" He bellows so closely to my ear that I noticeably wince. Rodolphus bursts through the double doors.
The Death Eater stands erect, hands behind his back in military fashion. "Yes, My Lord?"
"It seems my bride-to-be was so unfortunate to have shown up to our lunch in this rubbish," Tom drawls superiorly, plucking at the hem of my shirt with his fingers. "Call on your wife to provide her with something more suitable."
I cringe inwardly at his words- firstly because I will be subjected to an entire lunch at the Lestrange estate, and secondly that I would be forced to be in the same room as Bellatrix.
"Right away, My Lord," He bows before departing.
Tom lets go of my shirt, standing entirely too close.
"A dark color preferably," he deadpans right next to my ear. His breath tickles, sending shivers down my spine that aren't completely unpleasant. Tom runs a finger down the side of my royal blue sweatered arm. "Though this color certainly brings out aspects of you I find myself fond of."
His pale fingers then find the end of one of my blonde curls as he admires it. The chills come back to my skin and though I should be revolted I feel strangely stimulated by his touch.
"Thank you, I think," I mutter before stepping away, internally smacking myself for feeling even slightly comfortable next to him even if for a moment. I shift back to my seat, but right as I do there is a feverish knock on the office door.
With a bored wave of the Dark Lord's hand, the office door opens again. Bellatrix rushes in, walking directly to her master. She bows before him as if she were in front of Merlin himself. I roll my eyes at the dramatics of it all.
"You asked for me, My Lord?" Her eyelashes bat wildly and a pink flush rises to her sunken in cheeks.
Tom sips from his tumbler again, seeming entirely unimpressed by the witch in front of him.
"Take my fiancé to your rooms. Provide her with robes suitable for a formal lunch."
It's in that moment that the woman even notices me. She throws a glare in my direction, hidden from the eyes of Tom. She then turns back to the Dark Lord with a fraudulent smile on her face.
"I'd be happy to my Lord. Your lovely bride to be will be…tolerable…in no time," She sneers.
I want to hit her. Maybe I will. No wand, no magic, just a good ol' punch to the face.
Tom's silver orbs meet mine with a small entertained grin. He's reading my mind, there is no doubt about it now.
"Go," He demands sternly to his Death Eater as he struts to take his post behind his desk.
I stand, waiting for Bellatrix to make her move. Once she marches toward the door I follow her unwillingly, dragging my feet.
"Play nicely, little one," Tom adds with a smirk as I walk by his desk.
This elicits a grimace and an "I'll try," from me which brings another smug grin to his face… his strikingly beautiful face.
No Katarina, my brain yells at me, He's despicable. I shake my head of the thoughts knowing he's undoubtedly listening.
His smug voice sounds from the opposite side of the room, "I most certainly am."
I outwardly groan, making a mental note that his skills in Legilimency are beyond that of the ordinary wizard. Occlumency isn't a skill I have completely mastered but I do just fine. I refine my focus and block him out with everything I have.
Bellatrix moves quickly, surely trying to lose me through the many twists and turns of the manor.
We arrive at another set of double doors after ascending a marble staircase. She swings both open to access the master bedroom and continues toward what I assume is her closet. The décor is dark, morbid, and elegant- it's everything I'd assume the Lestrange's personal space to look like.
The dark haired witch has yet to say even a word to me since we left the office and I'm grateful for it. Getting through this will be easier without her biting tongue.
"Don't think that just because you're marrying the Dark Lord that I'd let you borrow anything of actual worth," She snaps, rifling through the racks of dresses before her.
Clearly I spoke too soon.
I roll my eyes, "Wouldn't dream of it."
She continues to sort through her dressing gowns. Must be hard to find anything in this sea of black fabric. I have to hand it to her house elves; they have this space impeccably organized for having a bat shit crazy a Lady of the house.
After many "no, not that, and definitely not that's" she finally she finds a garment that meets her satisfaction and turns to throw it at me.
"Here," She snarls. "And I want that back!" Her shrieking voice hits me like nails on a chalkboard.
If she thinks for a second I would willingly wear her clothes again, let alone steal this garbage, she's dead wrong.
"I'll be downstairs. Make your way to the dining room when you're dressed," Bellatrix says over her shoulder. "And don't go snooping around my rooms either!"
The door slams behind her and I am left alone. The events of today have been so beyond surreal that I can't even comprehend them with verity. I disrobe my own clothes, placing them in a small folded pile before stepping into the dress. It's a dark green, long sleeved and off the shoulder. It shows plenty of skin on the chest and back, seeming to be right up Bella's alley to wear something showing too much cleavage. The skirt is floor length and I thank Merlin my own shoes match the dress otherwise I'd be walking down barefoot.
I leave my hair in the curls that I showed up in, not wanting to put in any extra effort. Putting on a Death Eaters clothes for a sit down lunch should be enough already. Once I deem myself presentable I descend the same stairs we came up, hoping they lead me to the dining room.
Rodolphus is standing at the bottom of the steps, holding out an arm for me to take. Of course, I do not know Rod too well. We had become acquainted once at that horrific meeting in Hogsmede, then again at his wedding. He seems somewhat less menacing than his bride, but brutal just the same.
He says nothing as he lightly pulls me in the direction of the dining room. The doors are already wide open, showing a perfectly set table for two.
I turn quickly to Rodolphus, "You and Bella aren't joining us?"
He laughs darkly, "To the lovely couples first date? I think not."
My apprehension must be all over my face because he laughs again as he flippantly shoves me toward the table. I shoot him a glare as he shuts the doors to the dining room with a dark chuckle and I am left alone. The table settings and formal atmosphere actually provide me with comfort. These are the amenities I am accustomed to at home that I have been lacking at Hogwarts. I didn't realize how much I missed the civility of fine china and crystal glassware.
I take the seat that is to the right of the head of the table, knowing full well that that seat is saved for my fiancé. I pick at my nails as I wait for my host, wondering what my friends in Hogsmede were doing right now. Were they still lunching together, throwing back butterbeers? Hitting Zonko's for the latest pranking material? Picking up broom polish from the Quidditch shop?
My mind even wanders to Black though we are at odds yet again. What havoc could he be getting up to right now? My body aches as I dread the position I am in but take the small comfort in knowing that if Tom is here with me that means he's not off forcing my friends to commit nonsensical murder.
A side door slams open and I snap my head in the direction of the noise.
"Damn pathetic excuse for Death Eaters," Tom mumbles angrily as he saunters in. He takes his seat without even acknowledging me, taking a large swig of the firewhiskey that lay in front of him.
I continue to stare at him, brows knotted together in confusion. Something must have triggered a bad mood in him in the short while we were separated. I could throw an unforgivable at whoever did this to him since now I am the one who has to endure the side effects of a pissed off Dark Lord.
The darkness in his eyes seems to subside slowly with another sip of alcohol. "You look much better," he comments nonchalantly, eyeballing my figure.
Food adorns our plates then, just as it does at Hogwarts. I push a piece of hair behind my ear and take a bite of the bird in front of me, "Was lucky Bellatrix had so much to choose from."
He merely grunts in response, taking a bite of his lunch.
"My sources report you haven't been happy since returning to school," he states matter-of-factly, shoving another bite of food into his mouth.
I grit my teeth together. Who's the rat? Is the first thing that comes to mind.
"Lucius," I spit quietly, knowing he's behind this.
"Come again?" He urges, leaning toward me marginally.
"I said, that's absurd," I lie smoothly.
He grunts again in disbelief. He takes another bite then places his cutlery back on the table. He wipes his mouth with a napkin before looking at me deeply. His gaze is so consuming that I find myself lost in his depths.
"Katarina, I have the ability to give you every possible thing you could ever want. I have powers that far surpass any other wizard on this entire planet and can conquer any enemy that attempts to surpass me. I can protect your loved ones and give your uncle a position in my inner circle in order to maintain a legacy for your family. Does this all sound quite good to you?"
I can hear the rising anger in his voice. "It does," I utter almost silently.
He flips his plate over with a smash and stands abruptly, looking at me more furiously than I have ever seen before.
"So then why do you think it's a good idea to be spending your free time with a blood traitor instead of your own people?"
A sharp, ragged, cold ice pick to the stomach is what this feels like. He knows about Sirius Black.
How much? I could never know. Who would have passed him this information? Who even knew about myself and Black besides Severus? Sev would never betray me this way.
If Tom knows about Sirius Black that means an England sized target is now on his back. I run through every possibility in my mind of how to get the poor bastard out of dodge before it's too late for him.
"And now you insult me further by analyzing ways can save him."
In my terror, I must have dropped my shield of Occlumency. I feel like a complete fool, realizing I just condemned an innocent man to his death. All I can do is look up at him in fear and guilt and pray to Merlin that somewhere in his cold dead heart he can forgive me.
Tom is seething. As his anger is reverberates through the room, glasses start to shake, falling to the floor in shatters, paintings on the walls begin to tumble down; the magic coming off of him is literally breaking the room apart.
After a few angry breaths, Tom then humorlessly laughs loudly, taking his seat back down. He crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back to assess me, reveling in my culpability.
"It's almost comical that you think you'd be able to hide him from me forever."
"I-" My words catch in my throat. "I was not hiding anything- he means nothing!"
He laughs darkly again, "You're lying."
His explosive eyes fixate on mine once more. The man can read me like a book, better than anyone ever has. Better than my own sister, better than my mother, even better than Sofia.
"However," He continues with a smirk. "I'd be willing to chuck this up to youthful defiance. We were bound to come across our first lovers spat at some point- so long as you heed my warning to cease your philandering with those beneath you."
I gape at him and hiss, "Feels like a little more than a spat seeing as you have every intention of murdering anyone I come into contact with that isn't up to your standards."
He leans in closer to me, head slightly cocked to the side.
"You and I both know that I cannot touch the blood traitor while he's at Hogwarts."
I let out a small sigh of relief, earning myself another bitter expression from my counterpart.
"But that doesn't mean that I don't have people who can't," He asserts.
"Who-," I don't even have time to ask my question before the doors of the dining room fling open. In the doorway stands a face I sorely recognize.
"Quentin," I exhale; which comes out more like a regret than a greeting.
How can the figure before me be the feisty, strong, hotheaded Slytherin I once knew? Whoever stands in front of me right now is a shell, a small fraction of the boy I admired. His eyes are dark, sullen and empty, and he's lost an unusual amount of weight, well hidden by his gangly robes. Even his once flowing blonde hair seems to faded into a much duller variant.
"Hey Kat," He responds as he surveys me from across the room, his voice barely above audible level.
Tom shoots to stand up again, aiming daggers as my old friend. "You'll address the lady as Miss Petrovsky, you swine."
Nott chokes, nodding briskly and bending down to his knees in guilt, "Of course, forgive me, My Lord. Forgive me, My Lady."
Mere months ago Quentin and I were making out in the hallways at school, believing that a 'me not putting out' was a real world problem. How naive we were. It feels as though we have both aged significantly since the last time we spoke. I find that I can no longer be angry with him for how our relationship ended. It feels like a lifetime ago anyway.
"It's fine, Quentin," I urge, gesturing him to stand back up. I look to Tom who is still seething. "It's fine, Tom. We're old friends, Nott and I."
The Dark Lord scowls at me, "Ah yes, I remember being told of your…relations."
My eyes roll before I can stop them, "Are there any details of my life that you haven't been told by my cousin?"
"I know everything, little one. Best you comprehend that now."
Condescending prick.
Tom turns back toward my old schoolmate, "You're lucky my fiancé possesses a higher level of patience than I, Nott. Stand up."
Quentin nearly stumbles as he goes to rise, another show of how weak he has become; certainly no longer the full bodied athlete he was.
"As I was saying a moment ago," Tom sits again and looks back to me, eyes flashing with wicked gleam. "Nott here has a new mission."
My brow lifts waiting for him to go on.
"He has close contact with your Death Eater classmates. Any new word that you are associating yourself with Gryffindor vermin will come through Nott, and then come directly to me. Do not underestimate my newest followers in your inner circle. If I want your little friend to be dealt with, he will be dealt with."
My lips draw back in a snarl and I grip the fabric of my dress to stop myself from jumping across the table to strangle the wizard in front of me. How dare he threaten to turn my own friends against me?
"Consider this my only warning," He growls lowly at me. "Lord Voldemort does not hand out second chances. Get out of my sight, Nott." He waves for his follower to exit the room.
Quentin leaves us expeditiously, giving no time for goodbyes save for a bow to his master. I pray to Merlin that boy lives long enough to repent for the choices he's making. I hope he regrets the longing that was once built inside of him to join the Dark Lord's ranks.
The house elves quickly replace any broken materials from the lunch and place them on the table where Tom and I finish the remainder of our meal in silence. The noise of metal scratching porcelain is enough to carry us into the final bits of communication of the day.
Greyback will escort you back to your Hogsmede day," Tom says passively, not even looking at me.
I rest my fork and knife on the plate as my hands find each other in my lap. I muster some poise, avoiding his smothering gaze.
"Bellatrix!" He shouts, causing me to wince for what seems like the tenth time today.
Naturally, she enters the room within seconds. Knowing her she was likely listening in at the door the whole time, and I'd even bet she's waiting to gloat over the fact that I had been scolded like a five-year-old child.
She bows deeply, "My Lord?"
"Take Miss Petrovsky to change back into her heinous muggle robes and bring her to Greyback for transport to Hogsmede."
Tom then stands and leaves the room in swift motion.
No goodbye is troublesome, but it would appear that I am leaving with my life, which is all I could have really hoped for.
The rough arm of Greyback pushes me off of him the second our feet land in the snow of Hogsmede forcing me to fall to the ground roughly. We are in a dark alley where he will not be seen.
"Remember what the Dark Lord said, he won't be giving any second chances," the werewolf spits at me before apparating quickly.
Wiping the cold wetness from my pants, I grumble to myself, "Stupid, bloody, fucking werewolf."
I perform a drying spell followed by a warming spell as I make my way toward the opening of the alley. The bustle of the day has evidently made my absence unnoticeable.
The events of my afternoon wash over me as I hunch over and vomit onto the white snow.
The wrenching makes my eyes water, and that watering only bring about very real, very raw tears. I stand up straighter and lean my back on the cold brick of the ally lining building. I slide down the brick, feeling my sweater getting caught of the roughness. I pay it no mind as I hold my head in my hands, making sure my bottom doesn't touch the frigid snow. The tears keep coming as feelings of guilt and panic encompass me.
"Kat?"
A kind voice echo's against the brick walls around me and I turn to see the concerned face of my favorite Gryffindor. Yet another person I will inadvertently kill by being close to.
I sniff up the fluid that threatens to run out of my nose as I push a hand through my apparition knotted hair, "Hello Remus."
Lupin takes in the environment I sit in.
"That yours?" He points to the brown puddle of vomit sitting to my left and my stomach turns at the sight. I sniffle again and nod, crossing my arms over my chest. I rise slowly to a standing position, using the wall stabilize myself. I pull the hem of my sweater down to hide my abdomen from the chill.
"Scourgify," He whispers with his wand out, and the mess disappears.
"What can I do?" He asks lightly, taking a small step toward my miserable self.
The question is so simple and fundamentally affectionate that it produces more tears. He reaches for my shoulder and pulls me toward him. I instinctively wrap my arms around his torso, letting his warmth engulf me.
Though I don't have a close friendship with Remus, he has been consistently genuine and supportive. His heart is made of the purest gold and I feel safe being held by him- a true friend.
"Moony?" A familiar voice inquires from behind me. Knowing whom it is, my stomach lurches, threatening another bout of illness.
Remus lets go of me to turn around to face his friend and I connect eyes with the one wizard I definitely will not be able to protect in this war.
"I just found her like this," he explains softly to Black, arm remaining around my shoulder to keep me steady. "I don't know what happened."
An expression of anxiety covers Black's face as he steps forward to touch my arms delicately, as though he doesn't want to break me. Lupin steps away and Black rests his hands on the outside of my upper arms. He gently rubs up and down, either trying to keep me warm or keep me calm. It works for both cases.
The sensation of peace that erupts within me at his skin on my body makes my insides feel warmer than a summer day. I want nothing more than to throw myself onto him; to have him carry me to that special room in that forgotten corridor where we could spend the rest of forever away from sadistic ruthless fiancés and blood purity endeavors. I want him to embrace me until I have forgotten this horrid day, this horrid year.
It feels like a punch in the gut to have Tom's final words flash to the front of my mind. Lord Voldemort doesn't give second chances.
I stifle out another small cry.
"What the hell is going on here?" A third figure appears in the ally way and he looks exactly like the second. "Sirius, what did you do to her?"
Regulus' voice is biting and accusatory as he draws his wand toward his brother. Lupin defensively pulls his quickly and Black turns to push me behind his back. His strong arm finds my hip as his other hand pulls out his wand. The action of him moving to protect me sends a flutter through my chest.
"We found her like this, asshole," the elder Black spits. "Run on back to your loser cult. We've got this."
The jaw of my fellow Slytherin clenches tightly, and the grip on his wand tightens. "Kat, come with me."
It's not a forceful request. In fact, it almost comes out as desperate plea.
This is one of those moments- the moments that define a person. The type of moment that you look back on and realize it was then that you made a choice that changed everything forever.
In this moment I see a different type of life. One where I stay in Sirius Black's arms and let him wipe my tears until I find happiness again. One where he walks me back to the castle, right to Dumbledore's office, and we beg him to help me find a way out of this hell I have found myself in. One where I can find freedom, where I can find light at the end of this torturous tunnel. Together, with him.
Taking that chance puts everyone I love at risk- my family and friends in Russia, my housemates that have become like brothers and sisters to me, and, of course, Sirius. The wanker has pushed the limits of my usual aggravation at him to the point of admiration, lust and comfort.
I will suffer so they don't have to.
"Let go of me, Black," I order, as I move his hand off my hip and scoot around his form. His dejected expression stabs at my heart and I turn quickly so I don't have to look at him for another second.
"C'mon," Reg urges, reaching his hand to meet mine. I grab it with a sad smile and let him lead to back to the fuss of the town, back to my people.