Chapter 24 - Amelia Smith
Fleur and Bill tended to their other burns and wounds which were tumultuous. Lizzie felt foolish that she thought they could switch the swords in the presence of a goblin and wished she had imperioused him instead. Now they had another evil artifact without any means of destroying it. Remembering the havoc the locket reaped gave her an intense sense of foreboding. Especially considering there were others here who didn't have any idea what they would be residing with. Lizzie's demeanor had already shifted while Ron and Hermione steered clear knowing what to expect this time. She recommended Luna, Dean, and Olivander get taken to a new safe house but didn't explain fully why. Bill and Fleur left briefly to see them to safe accommodations.
She was back in Charlie's arms, but the sense of safety and peace was as far from her as it could possibly be.
Riddle's obsession with family was coming into greater focus. Not as it related to love, support, and devotion, he missed those critical elements, but the fascination he had with lineage and blood lines ran so deep even Lizzie's subconscious alternate was drawn to blood lines she hadn't known existed.
She thought about Melody for the first time in a while, really allowed her to think about her and closed her eyes around memories long lost in her mind. The ache penetrated deep, like Claire, she was the only person for a very long time that she felt safe with and remotely happy around. In many ways, Lizzie thought that without them and her mother's protection, she would have either been worse than Riddle, or the obscurial would have killed her.
"Did your dad grow up in this church like my uncle did?" She asked once as they ate lunch at a far outdoor table on an exceedingly warm day approaching summer holiday.
"No. No..." she sighed. "He lost his family and found his way into this. Never knew his mother, she died having him, his sister died when she was around our age. He wouldn't say exactly how, but he goes dark at the thought and asks me strange questions. His father had a hard time with her death and became a pretty belligerent alcoholic before he croaked. Think that's where the mean streak comes from," she shook her head bitterly.
"He hits you?" Lizzie asked with a shaky voice.
"Not that often. He looks at me like he's trying to identify something though. Like he doesn't trust me... I can't place it," she admitted. "He's cold, very cold," she added. Lizzie nodded.
"My uncle looks at me that way too. It's unnerving, but almost always results in the belt," Lizzie admitted with disdain.
"He hits you often, then," Melody said sadly. Lizzie nodded shamefully.
"My dad won't talk about his sister. From what I've picked up on she wasn't kind to him, blamed him for why they didn't have a mum. She knew him and he didn't. It's like he's ashamed of her, can't really tell. I saw one family photo and she sort of looked like my mum. Hard to tell in black and
white but... I'm too scared to ask. He hates crying. Calls it moaning and it's a sure-fire way to get slapped or worse, sets him off immediately," Melody said with an uneven exhale. "When mum died, he didn't look phased, he was cold about it, expecting it..." Melody explained. Lizzie watched her with sad eyes for a quiet moment.
"I get that. My aunt hated my mother, but it's never that simple. She won't talk about her, mistakes me for her... hates the reminder of her...it's not you, Mel. Shame on him for pushing you away, it's his loss. Blessed with a daughter he can't appreciate. Letting his demons get the best of him..." Lizzie said reproachfully.
"It's not you either, Lizzie. They could have treated you like their own, you would have let them," Melody said.
"Sometimes I think it is me though. They are good to each other. The way he smiles around Dudley and gleams with pride. The way he holds and kisses his wife... he's gentle. Intimidating and stern always, but gentle with them. He likes to make them feel special. Sure, he's hit her, but only when she's done something for me. I can't remember him even raising his voice at his son. It's just me. His eyes change. He sees red. One moment I think I'm treading carefully, the next my knickers are down and I'm screaming inside. Petunia too... she doesn't usually hit me, but I catch glimpses of kindness and she snatches it away...because I don't deserve it," Lizzie explained in a small voice.
"You do..." Melody said with a crack in hers.
Lizzie felt a pang of shame for despising the moaning ghost in the girl's bathroom the way she always had. Didn't feel much better of a person than Martin Warren as the memory surfaced, but it didn't matter now. Myrtle made sense; Melody made sense. Melody would have received a Hogwarts letter that same summer if she'd lived, Dumbledore told her that once, and her father would have lost his mind.
Lizzie thought that Leah was Riddle's Melody, except he couldn't comprehend friendship. She was slightly younger than him, he'd just found out he was a wizard and surely knew by then she was a witch. Maybe he felt threatened by the possibility of her attending Hogwarts, or maybe he didn't want to take any piece of the orphanage with him. She would know what none of the others did, her death ensured he could start over without a trace of the life he was saddled with. Lizzie almost couldn't blame him for that even though she would have loved to bring her best friend to Hogwarts with her. She loved her though, the common variable in all their differences, and for Tom that wasn't remotely possible.
There was a knock on the door and Charlie rolled over to get up and open it. "I made tea and some bread if you want any. There's a new batch of the healing potion as well.. it's just settling," Flier said. Charlie nodded and looked at Lizzie with a faint smile. She nodded and got up to follow him, wearing just a large and long button-down flannel because her leg was wrapped bulkily.
On their way down the stairs, there was a knock at the front door. Bill, standing nearest, put up his hand for nobody to move and Charlie pushed Lizzie behind him.
"Who is it?" Bill asked, his wand drawn.
"Remus John Lupin, werewolf, member of the order, husband to Dora Tonks," he recited.
"Something only Remus would know?" Bill asked.
"We were mauled by the same man, Bill. It's me. It's a boy," he said with a happy crack in his voice. Bill open the door to a wide-eyed Remus with bloodshot yet surprisingly sparkly eyes.
"How's Tonks?" Bill asked immediately.
"Tired, but perfectly fine. He's perfect. They're with her mother. We named him Theodore. Teddy after her dad..." he said in rapid English, hugging Bill and noticing Hermione from over his shoulder. Remus gaped slightly and looked over to see Ron getting up to greet him, then Charlie... Lizzie peered out from behind him awkwardly and moved around him.
Tears were hot in her eyes and the silence weighed heavy. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall, relief washed over her entire body and his arms wrapped tight around her.
"Congrat-ulations" she hiccupped into the front of Remus's jacket. He planted a kiss atop her head and held her face in both hands. His eyes were swimming with happiness and gratitude, it was the happiest she'd ever seen him.
"Thank you" he mouthed because sound didn't intersect with the movement of his lips. Lizzie nodded and hiccupped again. She wouldn't lose him. Their last exchange had left nothing but a heavy rock in her stomach. But here he was, a father. In her mind he deserved a family more than anybody, more than her.
"I didn't know you would be here, my God, are you alright?" He asked. Lizzie laughed a little through the tears.
"Bloody brilliant. Thanks for asking," she said sarcastically.
"We want you to be his godmother, will you?" He asked. Lizzie wasn't sure what happened to her heart in that moment, but it felt like it expanded, dropped, seized and then exploded all at once but in the best way possible. She nodded because no words could be muttered. Charlie rubbed her back and smiled up at Remus. He smiled back.
"Come meet him," he whispered. "Go get dressed, come meet him. We're at a safe house. Bring the cloak just in case," he said eagerly. Lizzie laughed and nodded, she left his arms and him, Hermione, Ron, Fleur, and Charlie all exchanged tight hugs and congratulations in her brief absence.
Lizzie limped back down the stairs in more than a large shirt, denim jacket over her shoulders, and a cloak in hand. Bill got up to go with them. "What happened?" Remus asked, noticing her gait.
"We broke into Gringotts earlier. It'll be in the news tomorrow, I'm sure," she said casually. She was amused by the expression on his face and shook her head.
"I'm not being facetious, but I'll explain later," she said, beaming to herself at the thought of holding a baby. She'd never held a baby.
Lizzie recognized the house from a couple years prior and followed a springy-stepped Lupin into the house. Ted wasn't sitting in his chair and Lizzie remembered why. Her heart sank a little, but Andromeda walked in to fetch something when she noticed Lizzie.
"Lizzie!" She exclaimed and launched forward for a tight hug. "Come on, come in, Dora!" She yelled.
"Oh... don't wake her if she's resting..." Lizzie whispered with a pang of shame.
"Resting? My dear she's... she doesn't know how to rest... oh come in..." she said excitedly. Lizzie entered her bedroom after Remus who sat down next to wife and stroked her hair. A naked baby, the size of a large ball of yarn was on her chest. Tonks smiled uncontrollably at Lizzie and Lizzie's face contorted around both a smile and a cry.
She scooped the sleeping baby up in a light blanket and handed him to Remus. He got up bouncing him gently in his hands and handed him carefully to Lizzie.
"He had black hair earlier. It's already blonde. I think he's like me," Tonks giggled. Her voice was exhausted but she was radiant. She tried to sit up but winced in pain, Remus rushed to her side and held her hand, pleading with her to not strain herself.
Lizzie looked down at the boy in her arms and whispered, "Hi Teddy, I'm Lizzie." Her eyes were hot with tears again. "You're beautiful," she said. "I think you're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," she added. His eyes opened and he held out a small hand, the tiniest hand she'd ever held. Without one thought, she kissed his fingers and hummed slightly, rocking just slightly until the faintest of smiles, just a slight upward line moved at the corner of his mouth. This is love, she thought. This is why. This is why we'll win. Lizzie handed Teddy back to Remus after several minutes of gazing longingly at Teddy. She didn't know if she'd live to see a family but watching this one filled her aching heart to its brim. Remus had love etched into every line on his face. He looked younger today. He looked happy.
Lizzie crouched down next to Tonks and pushed sweaty hair out of her face. "How are you?" She asked with a smile. Tonks smiled back wide.
"Never more in love, nor determined. See that giant head? Did a number, but I reckon I'll forgive him," she said. Lizzie choked on a laugh.
"You're a mommy. I'm so happy for you," Lizzie said with a cracked voice. Tonks nodded fervently.
"Remus asked you, right? If he didn't, I'll make him birth the next baby," she said. Lizzie belly laughed at this.
"I am honored. You have no idea how much it means. I'll do anything for him, I promise you both that," she said, tears making fresh lines down her cheeks.
Tonks's eyes swam too. "You don't think I know that? We didn't even have consider our options, it was always you," she said, and Lizzie kissed her friend's hand lovingly.
"Love you," she whispered. "Get some rest. I will see you as soon as I can," Lizzie said reassuringly. She kissed Remus on the side of the head from where he sat before, she left but he wanted to follow her out. Lizzie heard his footsteps after he handed the baby back to his wife and a hand on her arm.
"What's been going on? Any news?" he asked quietly.
"I'm close, very close. I'm headed to Hogwarts next I think, but don't know when," she whispered.
"Why did you break into the bank?" He asked.
"We were captured weeks ago by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. Narrowly made it out, Olivander is free finally. But Bellatrix... something we needed was in her vault and she good as gave it away when she thought we'd already been there. Three of what I told you about are gone. We have a fourth with no means of getting rid of it yet. One is likely at Hogwarts and the last is with him. I think it will be over soon. I really do. Please just stay as safe as possible," she explained and pled. He nodded with a clenched jaw and an expression laced with admiration.
"Can I have a word with Andy?" She asked, remembering something she wanted to ask her. Remus looked confused but nodded and took her hand into the next room where Bill sat with her.
"Hey, Andy..." Lizzie said with a weak smile. "How are you holding up?" She asked. Andromeda nodded understanding the underbelly of the question.
"As well as can be expected," she said.
"I have something to ask you about if you don't mind," Lizzie said, sitting down on the edge of an armchair.
"Does the name, Estrella Black mean anything to you?" Lizzie asked.
Andromeda choked slightly on her tea. "Yes... but how..." she said.
"Who is she? We heard Kreacher mention her, something about family heirlooms, but we couldn't really make out what he was talking about," Lizzie asked.
"Estrella is one of the first reasons Sirius and I started to despise our family," she said. "Our aunt. Youngest of our parents' generation. She was a squib and didn't receive a Hogwarts letter. Our uncle was ashamed and sent her off to live with his late uncle's former wife and widow who had remarried and been widowed again I think, awful woman. They discarded Estrella completely, burned her name from the tree. They used to laugh about pruning her from the blood line..." she explained. "It made us sick. At least Sirius and I. Not sure about Regulus, he was very young. Bellatrix and Narcissa did not care. She was a household name for scum. We feared if we didn't get our letters the same would happen to us," she explained.
"What happened to her?" Lizzie asked.
"She... died. The distant aunt she lived with did too. We were told her head was dropped at the doorstep. Someone murdered her when she was about twelve, thirteen or thereabouts, I really don't know but she was young. We thought someone in the family. But they went so far as to change her name so the blood line wouldn't even trace to us, it just didn't make any sense," she said. Lizzie iced over and shuddered.
"You said her head. The rest of her body wasn't dispersed through the floorboards, was it?" Lizzie asked. Andy narrowed her eyes and set down her cup on the saucer.
"How could you possibly know that?" She asked, answering Lizzie's question.
"The aunt that married your great uncle... what was her name?" Lizzie asked.
"Hepzibah. Unsure her maiden name. She was Hepzibah Black until he died. Then she married again... a Smith, I think," Andromeda said, frowning to recollect.
"They changed her name to Amelia Smith, didn't they?" Lizzie asked.
"That sounds like it might be right," Andy said, frowning at Lizzie.
"Did Hepzibah have anything of value from the Black family? Do you know?" Lizzie asked.
"Oh, no. I don't. She'd bragged about a great deal of possessions from the stories told by other relatives over the years though. I can't recall anything in particular. Claimed she was a Hufflepuff descendent, I remember my mother laughing about it," she said.
"I really wouldn't know, this all happened when I was very young," she added.
"I know... thank you, Andy."
Lizzie got up and steadied herself. She looked back at Andy who had the strongest resemblance to Bellatrix of the sisters. He hid the cup in the vault of Estrella's niece... how did he know? Hepzibah must have told him who she was.
"How old was Bellatrix when she joined him?" Lizzie asked with her back turned.
"One of his youngest. She was obsessed. Only fifteen, maybe sixteen," she admitted. Lizzie nodded with a dark look washing over her eyes.
She looked back down the hall and caught a glimpse of Tonks with her son bundled up on her chest again. She smiled weakly with a foreboding feeling.
By the time they got back to shell cottage, everyone was asleep. It was deathly quiet, even Bill poked around to make sure the place was inhabited. Everyone was in bed.
Bill rubbed Lizzie's shoulder as an unspoken goodnight and headed up to bed with Fleur. She flicked her wand to ignite a light in the middle of the kitchen table and sat down with an envelope she'd been meaning to look through in her rucksack. The conversation with Andromeda sent her head reeling in thoughts and suspicions.
She pulled a stack of old tattered papers out and pulled them apart from each other to examine. Military items mainly. Her eyes caught a man's scrawl and froze at the salutation.
'Dear Leah," her heart skipped several beats, and she ignored the content to read the signature. "All my love, David."
Lizzie spent hours reading through every inch to understand, to comprehend what she suspected for a while now. The thought dawned on her first when she discovered who her best friend had been. Lizzie found the family Bible that belonged to her mother's parents. Just like Vernon's it contained all the vital answers. She tucked it all away and let her heart hammer to a steady rhythm.
The riddle was solved. Every death was one of a pair, and yet the equal exchange his murders would have required of him was never satisfied.
Lizzie made her way down the hall and pushed open the door of the bedroom to see Charlie sleeping.
She pulled off her coat and pants, crawled into bed and noticed the cup on the fireplace mantel. Lizzie stared at it for a long moment, could feel her body talking to it but hadn't a clue what it was saying. She walked around to the bed and reached out to grab it. The image of a severed head flashed through her mind followed by a precession of memories of finding dismembered body parts in the floorboards of Privet Drive. She remembered sitting in a pool of her own blood as she passed something that looked like mush the night they were almost killed by the whomping willow. There was an intrusive thought about what would have happened had she had her uncle's child, or perhaps it was Damien's before they were formerly introduced. She wouldn't look like Tonks just had. Lizzie shuddered and tossed the cup in her bag, then stuffed the bag in the closet and climbed back into bed. After several minutes of forcing her eyes closed, she opened them to see it back on the mantel and a shadow of a figure move across the fireplace. Her heart hammered and she rolled away from it.
As she did, Charlie stirred. She faced away from him, but he turned to wrap an arm around her. He opened his eyes, not blue and soft, but red and sinister. If she had seen, she may have run.
Lizzie felt his hot breath on her neck as he pulled her in by her abdomen and crushed her next to his body. Forward move, but he was usually assertive and the way her body responded positively to it always surprised her. Lizzie squirmed slightly when his breath on her next became his open mouth, but didn't protest, smirking a little to herself and closing her eyes around the tight and protective embrace. Her skin went hot, and blood rushed to all the places it needed to, she wanted him. He plunged a hand between her legs and her hurt leg jolted suddenly with pain.
She gasped, "ow, wait," she said breathlessly. He forced her knickers down and ignored the soft protest, grabbing her jaw with his hand and kissing her aggressively. There was more than hunger, there was malice and Lizzie could feel it distinctly. When she pushed away, he snatched her back, flipped her onto her stomach and pinned her arms at each side of her head.
"Charlie!" She shrieked, but it was muffled by the mattress. Her breathing was ragged. She still couldn't see his eyes, how far from himself he was. She heard a hissing and whispering that sent chills through her exposed body. She felt a hand release her wrist to adjust his pants, he released the other and yanked up on her hips. "Stop!" She screamed, and the hand on her hip pushed her head down into the pillow. Lizzie cried and screamed but it was muted. She thrashed but he held tight, leaning down in her ear. He had a hand between her legs and could feel the lingering warmth of what was desire a short moment ago and laughed condescendingly. "Sin for you to like this" he whispered in her ear. It wasn't his voice. She realized what was happening. She realized what had been happening to her for most of her life. Something clicked that she couldn't grapple with in this moment.
"Charlie, please... please let go," she panted feverishly. He flipped her over and she saw his eyes just before he hit her hard in the face. It was something between and punch and a back hand that made light pop in her eyes. She screamed for help before he struck her again and slapped a hand over her mouth.
"They can't hear you," he growled. She remembered Cedric hitting her in the graveyard. Remembered his cruciatius. It was under Voldemort's imperius. This isn't him; this isn't him, she thought frantically, bracing herself for an inevitable and devasting assault that would ruin them.
"Please, stop," she panted. She tried to summon her wand, but he snatched her wrist so hard she felt it sprain. He was trying to restrain her, but she wouldn't concede. There was a loud pop that made him let go briefly but it wasn't enough. Her adrenaline was pumping violently but it was exhausting every muscle.
"Hold still!" He hissed. "Or this gets worse!" He warned. Lizzie closed her eyes and started praying. He pushed her legs apart and she pretended it wasn't him. Her arms were pinned tight, and she breathed heavy breaths. Nothing had ever hurt worse than this moment. He knew, Voldemort knew, like he knew with Nagini, exactly how to break her.
When he was done, he unpinned her. Lizzie rolled onto her stomach and desperately gripped the pillow she was crying into. He left the room and the door clicked shut, she turned her head to face his side of the bed and saw a very sick looking girl staring back. The sheets were bloody when sat up but not from her own body.
Lizzie jumped and crawled out of bed, wanting to run from the house, but her hurt leg and bruising pelvis anchored her to the cottage. She grabbed a shirt and left the room, pulling it over her shoulders on her way down the stairs. The light was on in the kitchen. She rounded the corner, bracing herself against the wall, and saw Charlie heating water on the stove.
"How was Tonks? The baby? Do you want some coffee?" He asked innocently. His voice was normal. He wasn't looking at her. Lizzie moved a little further into the kitchen, trembling with aftershocks. He turned around to look at her and his eyes were blue again. They widened into saucers at her bruising face and bloody lip.
Lizzie doubled over in pain and leaned her weight into the table, he lunged toward her to help. "What - happened?" He asked. Her heart constricted for him for a moment. She could read his ignorance. She knew in her bones he wasn't inside himself upstairs.
"Lizzie, what happened?" He asked with more urgency. He reached for her, but she backed away, still shaking. Her mouth couldn't form a coherent sentence.
"Don't," she muttered. He moved to hold her steady on her feet. "Don't! DONT! DONT TOUCH ME!" She screamed. Her heart had reached full panic. She couldn't think. Her body shook. Her hurt wrist was gripped in her hand feebly. There was no coming down from this. He was terrified watching her nerves and anxiety implode on every fiber of her being.
"Lizzie - what -" he asked. She pointed a finger at him. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths.
"Don't touch me. Just don't fucking touch me. I don't want to. I don't want to do this. I never wanted to do any of this. We're - I can't. I can't. I don't want us to be over. I can't - " she was gasping for breath between words. He didn't understand.
"I hurt you," he said with terror laced in his voice. Lizzie nodded.
"You... I can't... I can live with a lot. I survived a lot - I can't - survive - that," she said breathlessly with the urge to vomit. The room was spinning. Everything made sense, Melody was wrong, it was always something about her. Lizzie heard him talking but it was marbles in her ears, and she pushed away at every effort he made to help her, throwing weak fists at his face. She tried to climb the stairs, but panic stopped her heart. She sunk to the floor with her back to the wall, her head hit the floor, she looked up at a figure at the top of the stairs staring, and all went dark.
Tom was walking down a wet, cobblestone sidewalk in London, she often heard his steps from above her pace back and forth and back again in front of the high window of the basement room she stayed in. She recognized the gait alone. There would be a rap on the door in three, two, one...
"Good evening, Madam Smith," she heard from pressing her ear to the wall. There was a squeal of pain from their house elf, Hokey, and she scurried to open the door at the top of the basement stairwell.
"Miss Emilia, the mistress has called for you," the elf said.
"Thanks, Hokey, I know," she whispered and stared up at the door apprehensively. Her skin crawled and she didn't want to make herself known, but she swallowed the courage and headed up the steps, wrapping an apron around her dress in the process, and smoothing down her abdomen over an ever-so-slightly swelling stomach.
"Took you long enough," the old woman spat when Milly appeared with a water pitcher and bowl of chocolates.
Tom, handsome, she thought he was handsome and hated herself for that, picked up a chocolate and handed her one.
"Oh, don't spoil her," Hepzibah said. He gestured for her take it and she did. Milly pretended to chew to satiate the satisfied look on his face. He always looked calculating and conniving, and it always set her anxiety on high alert. His eyes lingered on the way her hand naturally sat on her stomach and she saw a smirk in just his eyes.
They talked for some time. Tom always brought her aunt tokens and artifacts from the shop he worked at to peak her interest. After she'd looked through her offering, she would decide on something to barter. Then Tom would leave. Other times she'd tell Milly to go back downstairs.
She had a hiding place because she knew what going downstairs meant. What he'd asked for without a word spoken. But he would find her. She'd hear him sigh on steps when she wasn't immediately apparent. She'd hear the floorboards creak and croak as he walked. Sometimes she hid in the closet where her bed was jammed, other times under the stairs. As of late she found a loose floorboard and alcove she barely fit in and crammed herself to fit like a mold.
It worked last time. She took a beating from her aunt after he left though and swore she heard feet up near the window listening.
"This is clever, sweetheart," he said as he pulled up the board and uncovered her hiding place. "Get up," he ordered. She obliged. He flicked his hand to point to the center of the room and sat down on a chair while she undressed. He never wanted her to strip completely, simply her top dress layer and to hand him her knickers.
"How are you feeling?" He asked with a convincing amount of mock sympathy. She breathed and swallowed back a wave of nausea before sinking her head shamefully.
"Sick," she breathed. He nodded.
"Have you been drinking what I gave you?" He asked. Fear flooded her eyes when she nodded.
"I know when you're lying, sweetheart," he hissed. Her veins felt like fire as his eyes grew angry. She shook her head and then her insides constricted violently as he stood up, towered over her, and pushed her into the edge of a table.
"Please don't," she shrieked. He pulled her hair back behind her head and ran a hand over the curve of her neck.
"I don't need you when this is over," he hissed. "But I don't want to risk ruining it," he added and let go of his grip on her. He wrapped arms tight around her trembling body. "I don't enjoy this," he whispered into the top of her head.
He showed up on a cold afternoon a few weeks later and Milly could her the heated conversation from upstairs.
"She's not well, not today," her aunt said assertively.
"What do you mean she's not well?" He asked. Milly gripped her searing abdomen and rolled over on the small mattress in agony. The sheets were bloody. She didn't think she'd ever get the memory of the curse her aunt pointed at her stomach and the searing pain that since followed out of her mind. It had not ceased; she was certain this was a punishment. She was also certain she was dying the way her muscles burned and her body went into fits. Her temperature was high. She'd passed what looked to her more like a snake than an unborn baby, but it was hard to tell from the blood.
"Do you want her off your hands, Hepzibah, for a small price, I'll take her," he offered.
"Take her to what? Breed her? I should never have told you who she was," Hepzibah retorted.
"If she's not well, I'll see to her. I'll make sure she -" he offered again.
"I saw to her. I would have thought you'd be more careful..." Hepzibah hissed back.
"You - terminated it?" He asked dryly.
"I'm not letting her kind breed," Hepzibah scoffed.
"She comes from an ancient bloodline Hepzibah. I'm certain no child of mine would have been a squib," he growled.
"Nonetheless..." the woman interjected.
"Nonetheless, I don't even believe she is a squib. She was of great use to me..." he said cutting her off.
"She would have died in birth," Hepzibah said. "Barely fourteen, she looks ten at most."
"Why would you care?" He laughed.
"I'm not raising the abomination she'd bear. I'm not letting you take her off my hands, either. I know your price and over my dead body will you get your hands on those," she spat.
Milly got up on weak legs and crawled up the stairs sometime later when she thought Tom had left. She was relieved perhaps he was gone forever. When she pushed the door open and wandered down the hallway with the wall as her brace, she saw her aunt sprawled lifeless on the sofa.
Tom sat in an armchair and stared at Milly's back as she gaped in horror. She turned to see him staring fixedly at her. He smirked and gestured for her to come to him. She did reluctantly, he had a draw she couldn't fight. He pulled her body until her hips were pinned together between his knees and put a hand to her head.
"You're burning up," he said. Her skin was clammy and sweaty. "Probably an infection..."
He reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up over her chest. His hand coursed down from her breasts to her abdomen, but he didn't seem to derive the least bit of pleasure. He pressed hard into her lower abdomen and then up into her pelvis and she shrieked. His eyes suddenly got dark and furious.
"She sterilized you..." he growled reproachfully. Milly stepped back and let her dress fall. Her body shook violently. She wanted to rip him to pieces.
"Useless," he spat and backhanded her hard to the ground. She crawled to get up and he kicked her in the stomach. She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door to the basement, but he shoved her hard at the top of the stairs and her body felt broken by the time she hit the bottom.
She dragged her body by the strength of her arms toward the small comfort of her bed in the closet and could feel him following slowly. She curled up knowing she was doomed, and he crouched down in front of her. He reached for her face and brushed a tear with the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone.
"Pity. You're no squib," he said quietly. The room ignited in green light.
The fire in the living room crackled, light dancing on the old woman's face now the color of a drowned corpse. Atop the mantel sat the golden cup with the yellow jewel affixed to the base and an engraved badger on front. The floorboards were pulled up and pieces of the young girl were dispersed, wrapped in pieces of her clothes. He sighed when the job was complete and stared back at a twin of the girl, only dead in the eyes, who stared back blankly at Tom with a bloody mass of a barely distinguishable unborn child that fit into the palm of her hand.
He glared between the doppelganger of the dead girl and the cup, then took a blade and sliced a large cut into the palm of his hand and offered it to the figure. She shook her head and took the blade. There was fear in his eyes for a short fraction of a moment when she plunged the blade into his groin. He let out a yell of pain but nodded that exchange was just once he had grappled with it. She put what she was holding into the cup and drained his bleeding hand over the top before handing it to him to drink. He hesitated but obliged and the reward was that the bleeding ceased from his groin and healed quickly into a scar. She drank from the cup as well and set it back on the mantel. The room was empty, but the cup whispered to him its satisfaction. He picked it up and examined it with intensity, feeling victorious.
The young girls head sat wrapped on the coffee table. He unrolled a scroll and sighed with disappointment. Hope of reproducing his power or breeding meladictus himself, like Herpo had, was lost, but he gained one more tier of immortality in exchange.
The hope that he could reunite Herpo's soul with the body of his own offspring would need to be done differently, if it could be done at all. In the meantime, he fondled his mother's locket in his pocket and took it out to examine more closely.
He glared at Hepzibah's body. Had she simply given him these in exchange for him unburdening her of her niece, which he had requested countless times, he would have accomplished both intentions.
The door clicked behind him and he left feeling maimed by the exchange. The locket and the defiled cup were safely stowed in his bag, and the head of the young girl left at her father's doorstep.
