INTERLUDE VI

Even in late winter, Florence was a sight to behold.

The city seeped beauty, the kind his master had lusted over, artistic wealth that was inherited and inhabited by its populace, the remnants of the Renaissance. The Cathedral, the Gallery, the Gardens, all of it held fond memories for him. Despite having little love for art and culture, he still remembered his master's attempts to get him to slow down and enjoy the world around him more.

Those memories remained a fleeting bright spot in the darkness that his life had become.

He even considered the simpler beauty of the town, the rolling hills, the wide river and the cobblestones beneath his feet, to be a wonder in its own way. The clear sky and bright sun contrasted with the brisk air, but even that was attractive to him. Truly, it was a lovely day.

It was such a shame that it was going to end in torture.

He marched down the narrow street towards the safe house, flanked on either side by a loyal follower. Ahead of them, a small group of Muggle boys were playing football, when they clearly should be in school. Honestly, if you were going to skip class, at least change out of your school smock.

Tom repressed the urge to shake his head at that thought. He was growing far too comfortable with his role as a schoolteacher.

One of the boys kicked the ball too hard. It rebounded off the wall and almost struck Torrington in the head. The young man, already on edge due to conducting business in the Muggle world, almost went for his wand.

Tom raised his hand, ever so slightly, and he froze. "Forgive me." He said, lowly, dropping his hands back to his sides. They continued walking, even as the boy hurried past them to retrieve the football, completely unaware of the mortal danger he had just been in.

"It's just this way, General." Cushing led the way to the Muggle residence she and her lover had rented for their anniversary. There, hidden underneath Disillusionment Charms, he sensed two of his own, flanking the front door, guarding their latest asset. He felt a sudden rage at their incompetence but cooled it. Cushing was in charge of this mission, which included security, so it was not the fault of the foot soldiers, but their commanding officer.

He felt the guards observe him with curiosity, wondering who their Captain was leading into the safe house. Only his inner circle was permitted to know that the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was secretly a Knight of Walpurgis, and even then, only when they had proven themselves. Which was why he was so angry at Cushing. He had expected more of her.

Once the door was closed behind them, he turned to Cushing. "Renata, do you know when the local Aurors conduct their patrols of their jurisdictions?"

Cushing blinked. He could hardly blame her. He had not spoken a single word to her since they had reunited this morning, and his first words were a question about the enemies' patrol schedules. Still, she knew better than to leave a question unanswered. "I'm not sure, General."

Behind him, he could feel Torrington shaking with silent laughter. Tom nodded at him, and he immediately sobered and answered the question. "Outside of missions and reports given by trusted Muggle informants, Aurors conduct patrols in random areas at random times. They don't have the manpower to investigate every nook and cranny of the cities they protect, but they try their best to."

Tom could see Cushing looked further confused. "Let me make it simple for you. If you leave two disillusioned sorcerers outside of a door in a Muggle area, someone is going to notice. Your people have been here for three days, it's a miracle Italy's Commander hasn't broken through the front door yet." He did not raise his voice, but he could see Cushing's face pale. She moved to the door, but Tom shook his head. "Torrington will deal with them. You will help me with our asset."

Relieved that she wasn't in more trouble, Cushing led the way to the basement her soldiers had created underneath the house. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, but before they entered through the door, he stopped her.

Waving his wand over his face, he asked, "How do I look?"

Cushing, clearly trying to curry favour, spoke quickly. "Very handsome, sir!"

Tom remained patient. "I meant, do I look recognisable?"

She flushed, and with each passing moment he became surer of what he had to do next. "No, sir. Not recognisable at all."

Tom nodded. "Good. Might I ask, what were you wearing last night?"

Now used to his non sequiturs, she answered quickly. "This, sir. Between contacting and escorting you here, I haven't had time to change."

Tom smiled now. "Excellent." With that he flicked his wand at her, disarming her of her own, while simultaneously gagging and binding her with conjured ropes. Ignoring her look of sudden terror, he opened the door.

The moment the naked and bound man saw Tom levitating Cushing in front of him, he began screaming. "Renata! RENATA!"

Ignoring the man's screams, Tom closed the door behind him and conjured a chair for Cushing beside her lover. "Don't worry," he said speaking in his captives' native tongue, not to make him more comfortable, but to hide his own identity, "she hasn't been harmed. Yet"

"Yet? Yet?!" The man began to shout obscenities at him in Russian, and Tom simply twirled his wand. The chains which kept him restrained quickly turned hot, low enough in temperature to keep his nerves intact, but far too high for him to ignore. He waited for the man's high screams to turn into sobs before he stopped.

Tom missed his Cruciatus Curse. There was no need for any back and forth when your prisoner felt every nerve ending on fire without any kind of physical damage done to the body. Everybody broke under his cruciatus eventually. Unfortunately, like his imperius, only one wizard was known to cast it, and he couldn't let the secret slip. He couldn't allow his followers to know that he was fallible, vulnerable.

And he especially couldn't let this Auror know, not when Tom's plan hinged on setting him free. "I know you, or at least I know your father." He saw Adrian Molotov's eyes flash and he had to repress a smirk. Whether it was admiration or resentment, you could normally count on the son of a successful man to have strong feelings towards their father, one way or another.

"The famous Commander Molotov. I was too young to be there, you know, at the Siege of Koldovstoretz. One of the Dark Lord's Acolytes, General Dolohov, had bombarded the school's defences for hours. His idea was to capture the sons and daughters of the wealthy and the influential and convince them to reconsider their disloyalty. Not a bad plan, simple, but not bad."

Tom began to circle them both, slowly, at his own pace. "But then, rising silent through the gateway under Lake Svetloyar, came your father, along with half the Auror force in Russia. To say it was a blood bath is putting it mildly and Dolohov, the coward, turned and fled. The Dark Lord punished him most severely that night, and he never managed to earn his trust again before the end."

Tom stopped now, right in front of him. "But that's not the entire story, is it? You see, I heard a most incredible tale about a young boy, trapped in a school under siege, who took his life into his own hands. He used a secret passageway that he had found, too narrow and dangerous to take others with him, but enough to make it to Kitezh undetected. Enough to contact his father, the Commander of the Moscow Institute."

Adrian looked at him blearily, hungry, dehydrated and in pain. "Please let her go." He begged quietly.

Tom ignored him as he began his circling again. "How did your father react to your heroism? Did he tell the world of your heroics? Did he tell you he was proud of you?"

Adrian voice was weak, but there was an undeniable anger to it. "Shut up."

Again, Tom ignored him. "No, he hid what you did. Too afraid that someone would accuse you of cowardice. A Second Year Auror Cadet running away from a battle. What a shame you must be to your family." He said this mockingly. "We both know he didn't care either way about the way people looked at you, he has all of your brothers to be proud of, after all. No, what he was afraid of, was that someone would link your cowardice to his family name. So afraid he used his influence to station you at the end of the world."

Adrian swore in a frustrated voice. "Just let her go and I'll tell you anything you want to know about my father."

Tom raised his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised when he was smiling underneath. "You would betray your own father, your own brothers in arms, for her?" He asked, even though he knew the answer already.

"Yes." Adrian said.

Tom was glad he was behind his captive now because he could just about stop his laughter, but he could not stop his smile.

"Because you love her."

"Yes." Adrian breathed.

Tom shook his head. He never understood those who claimed that love was a strength. It was like leaving the most fragile, vulnerable parts of yourself out in the world, without protection. It turned the smartest, most capable individuals into wild, desperate fools. So easy to hurt, to control, to manipulate.

Tom stopped in front of him again. "Would you believe me if I told you that I don't want know anything about you father?"

"What?" Adrian looked confused. "They why bring him up?"

Tom shrugged, finally conjuring a seat for himself in front of them. "I just wanted to build a rapport with you."

Adrian's eyes widened, finally realising that he was breaking the Auror's rules of engagement when it came to capture. Say nothing, try to escape, and if that's impossible, wait for a rescue that will never come.

Either carrying your shield, or on it, Tom remembered. And they call me evil.

He was going to struggle now, but that was good. While Tom would have preferred to get the information painlessly, he needed to shatter the asset's self-identity as an Auror, shatter it so thoroughly that he could be trusted to complete his task without someone holding a wand to his back.

Besides, a certain someone needed to learn that there was a high price to be paid when they weren't careful. Anyway, it was only Saturday. He had plenty of time to waste before going back to Hogwarts.

Adrian rose his head, defiantly, finally acting like a true son of the Molotov family. "When I am the anvil, I bear. When I am the hammer, I will strike!" He spat weakly, aiming at Tom, but it just dribbled pathetically down his chin.

Tom hummed. "Your family motto? Very dramatic. But what if you weren't the anvil or the hammer today? What if you were just here to watch?" Adrian, the dim lad, looked confused. At least until Tom slowly trained his wand on Cushing.

That's when they both started screaming and thrashing in protest.

Tom didn't bother repressing his smile now. A year ago, after a long search, Cushing had finally identified a vulnerable Auror, of the exact type they needed. Tom had told her to take her time in seducing him, it would not be hard at first, she was a beautiful young woman, but such feelings were superficial. Tom needed the young man to love her. Enough to sacrifice everything for her.

Even his very soul.

With a tight corkscrew twirl of his wand, a long, thin strip of flesh was slowly peeled away from Cushing's arm. She screamed, and Adrian was already begging for his attention, promising to help him with anything he wanted.

Tom paused for a moment, as though considering, before taking another strip of flesh from Cushing, smiling in pleasure as they both screamed with different kinds of agony.

Some things he did for the cause. Others he did solely for himself.