As I Stand Witness to your fall

Disclaimer: In no way this any characters from the Harry Potter series belong to me.

---------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two: Whore

She doesn't cry anymore nor does she plead for him stop. Her body is numbed from his constant beating...It doesn't really matter though, since after all Pansy Parkinson only purpose was to serve her Lord. Someday he would be gentle; he would whisper lies into her ears, promise her the world...but she knows as soon as the words escape his lips, everything that she once hope for will disappear with what was left of her.

She promised Daddy that she'll be an empty shell of herself, a doll for her Lord to use. Daddy will be proud of what has she become, but Daddy won't know that because as soon as Daddy walked away Pansy knew that Voldemort had him killed because Daddy knew too much.

"My Lord, did your meeting go well," She asked softly.

He was young again…the image of Voldemort, the Dark Lord of the wizarding world no longer exist within the wall that he called home. It was only Tom Riddle…he was no longer the man that carelessly murder thousand cold hearted, he was no longer the man that sent shiver down the back of every wizard and witch, he was only the man that made her unclean.

He captures her lips with his, he smelt of death and decays…little children too young to die…and the heavy stench of blood filled her nostril. She was his release an escape for him from the pool of blood that encompassed his being. His younger form could not fathom why so many had died; he never intended to walk the path he was on.

"I need you…" He doesn't have to ask. Each night their routine became an endless cycle that neither one could break. She didn't want to break it. He was all she had left. Pansy would be nothing without her lord. She no longer has the name to back her up, the money to hold her status high in the eyes of pure blood families. He took everything from her, blind her to everything that she has become.

He paints her body with black and blue bruises whenever he was done. Pale white powder could only hide so much before he washed it off with his fist. He throws her body against the wall, his scream echo through her ears. He doesn't care if her body no longer moves whenever his touch becomes too harsh. He doesn't care if his touch no longer burns her skin when she is too cold. And sometime he would garnish her lips with crimson red paint; he hated the color.

Tears go unshed...because she really did care.

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She stood in the shadow, hidden away from the rest of the death eaters. He didn't want them to know that he was still mortal, that he still succumbs to human desire. And she was proof of that. She was his weakness…

She would never have to fight nor would she ever have the chance to stand by his side. How was she to compete with Bellatrix Lestrange for that position? Bellatrix Lestrange was a fighter, a powerful witch and what was she to him? Even now, Bellatrix sits next to her Lord, blindly devoted, unaware that she was disposable when it comes to him. She found it amusing that Bellatrix can be reduced to nothing more than a silly school girl when it comes to her Lord. She doesn't envy her position…

"…to those who has tainted our world will soon parish in the fire of hell."

…And no matter how much she bathe, or how clean she was...the scented perfume could not masked what lied beneath...she was dirty...tainted by what she has become...after all how clean can a whore be?

---------------------------------------------------- End Chapter Two

A/N: Sorry if this is another short chapter. I kind of had prewritten the first two chapters. The next chapter would most likely be longer and some Harry and Pansy interaction. This is going to be a slow pace story. If anyone is anticipating romance any time soon, sorry to disappoint. Please mind the grammar and criticism would be nice.