Broken Teacups by The Unforgivable
NOTE: This is the prequel/sequel to Slytherin Girl. Please read that first. Assume all usual disclaimers. As much as I wish I had been the one to come up with the idea of Harry Potter and become rich and famous off of it, I didn't. All the best characters (except for Rebecca Morgain) belong to J. K. Rowling. The definitions came from Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc. I had to modify them slightly.
Chapter 1
fear \Fear\, n. [OE. fer, feer, fere, AS. fær a coming suddenly upon, fear, danger; akin to D. vaar, OHG. f[=a]ra danger, G. gefahr, Icel. f[=a]r harm, mischief, plague, and to E. fare, peril. See Fare] 1. A painful emotion or passion excited by the expectation of evil, or the apprehension of impending danger; apprehension; anxiety; solicitude; alarm; dread.
Note: The degrees of this passion, beginning with the most moderate, may be thus expressed, -- apprehension, fear, dread, fright, terror.
Fear is an uneasiness of the mind, upon the thought of future evil likely to befall us. --Locke.
Where no hope is left, is left no fear. --Milton.
2. (Script.) (a) Apprehension of incurring, or solicitude to avoid, God's wrath; the trembling and awful reverence felt toward the Supreme Being. (b) Respectful reverence for men of authority or worth.
I will put my fear in their hearts. --Jer. xxxii. 40.
I will teach you the fear of the Lord. --Ps. xxxiv. 11.
render therefore to all their dues; tribute to whom tribute is due . . . fear to whom fear. --Rom. xiii. 7.
3. That which causes, or which is the object of, apprehension or alarm; source or occasion of terror; danger; dreadfulness.
There were they in great fear, where no fear was. --Ps. liii. 5.
The fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. --Shak.
for fear, in apprehension lest. "For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more." --Shak.
The wind whipped around Rebecca, slicing through her heavy robes and cloak as if they were gauze. She repressed a shudder. To shudder would be to seem weak. Weakness was the last thing she wanted to appear to these people.
How did I ever let him talk me into this again? she wondered, fighting another shiver. They were standing shoulder to shoulder in a circle. Hidden from the watching eyes of the Death Eaters, she felt for Severus's hand among the black folds of his cloak. His face remained impassive, but he gently squeezed her fingers.
The Dark Lord spoke suddenly, his voice sending chills down Rebecca's back. "Well, I see you are here again." Rebecca forced herself to look straight into his eyes. "Perhaps you are considering joining, then?" His voice was taunting, but she forced herself to remain calm. He knew as well as she did she would never join.
Because she was Lucius Malfoy's cousin, best friends with Severus Snape, close friends with many other Death Eaters, and a second cousin to Voldemort himself, the Dark Lord permitted her to attend a few of the Death Eater's meetings without forcing her to join. There was a blood bond that he assumed would keep her from betraying him. By the same token, he could not harm her - yet. She had not yet dared to test this bond, but she knew with grim certainty that the day would come.
She was in a precarious position, she knew, dancing on the edge of a razor blade. If she were to fall. . .But she violently forced her thoughts away from the danger. She narrowed her eyes and stared at Voldemort's forehead. She couldn't force herself to meet his eyes, nor would she let herself drop her gaze.
Voldemort's scathing voice cut through her as effectively as the wind had. "Or perhaps you need persuading." Rebecca felt numb, but it was not from the cold. His form of persuading would not be pleasant, to say the least.
Unceremoniously, the Dark Lord flicked his wand at her. The word "crucio" fell from his lips and landed on Rebecca's ears, burning like fire. The pain wrenched her hand from Severus's. Distantly, she could hear her ragged screams, like that of a tortured animal, which, she thought hazily, I am. She felt that she was being burned at the stake, drawn and quartered, drowned, and suffocated all at once.
Suddenly, the pain receded. Rebecca found that she had collapsed to the ground. Every nerve in her body tingled unpleasantly. Her head throbbed. Her skin crawled. With a blinding flash, she realized that one tiny portion of her body did not hurt at all. A tiny sliver of her ring finger, where Severus's ring sat. She touched the ring gingerly, and was barely able to stifle a yelp. It was white hot.
There was no time to ponder this startling realization, though. Voldemort pointed his want at her again. She felt herself rising to her feet against her will. The Dark Lord smirked. "Now you see what pain I can inflict on those who choose not to follow me, maybe you will think better of joining. I can do much worse."
Something inside of Rebecca flamed up suddenly. Before, she had been afraid of Voldemort, not knowing the extent of his powers. She knew, now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was lying. He could do nothing worse to her. He could torture her friends, of course, and the mental anguish would probably drive her insane, but as far as his ability to inflict physical pain on her, he had reached his limit. She had survived his worst. Even death could never be as painful.
She drew herself up to her full height, removed her mask, and spoke calmly, "Personally, I prefer tickling charms." She knew it was a dumb thing to say, but behind the haze of pain, her mind was working slowly.
Briefly, a fleeting trace of shock flickered across the Dark Lord's face. "You reject my offer, then cousin?" His voice was dangerous, but her fear of him was completely gone. She pulled out her wand. Across the circle, she saw several faithful Death Eaters reach for theirs.
Breaking from the circle, she stepped towards Voldemort. three Death Eaters moved as if to do the same, but Voldemort held up his hand to stay them.
The corners of Rebecca's mouth twisted into a strange leer. "Your offer?" she whispered. "You make it sound as if you were asking me to go to bed with you."
Voldemort raised his wand, but Rebecca struck out at him with hers, knocking it out of his hand to the ground. "You may know more magic than me, but you have forgotten that there are ways of doing things without it." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Death Eater raise his wand, but again Voldemort stopped him.
"Let her try and kill me. I think you will find it is impossible," he told the Death Eater.
A sudden thought struck Rebecca. Death. He has such an obsession with death. I can't kill him, not now. But I can be his undoing. Why did it never occur to me before? I know the only thing he is afraid of. He is afraid to die. Not by my hand. He knows I can't harm him , but he is afraid to die. It is in his very name. She smiled at the Dark Lord. A friendly smile. Every person in the circle froze. the look on her face was unnerving.
"Perhaps I won't be the one to kill you. That doesn't matter. Maybe no one will kill you. Maybe you will die quietly in your sleep, an ugly, unloved old man." Each word she spoke twisted the Dark Lord's features further into - was it pain? Or fear? "You will die. You can run forever, but Death will find you in the end. I bear you no malice. I won't spill you secrets to the ministry or hunt you down, have no fear of that. But be a afraid for you life all the same. You will never reach immortality."
With those words, she dissapperated.
