Last chapter we left Procella laid on her bed, in the passionate embrace of Severus Snape, using the emotion to help her mind become more forth coming to his Legilimens. It worked, as her walls lowered for him, and he was drawn in.
In, to the darkness.
AN: from this point on, the memory shall be seen as if it was happening…Snape an observer unseen in the shadows as she recalls each memory. As there will be more than one.
First memory
"HA!" A young 16 year old with teary emerald eyes, messy ruffled golden blonde hair fell down to the pavement floor, holding her head in pain. The dirty puddle water seeped into her plain brown combats to her knees, and her white long sleeves turtle neck was ragged and torn from abuse. "Look at her! She looks mad!" A boy stood over her with a short brown army cut and harsh icy blue eyes laughed. "Do it again Jake." He snickered, as his best friend grabbed a fist full of her head, and snapped her head back. He had a mop of black hair, and also blue eyes.
The girl opened her mouth and looked to be screaming in pain, but no sound escaped. She had trained not to make a sound, even in the most painful situations.
Which she had had quite often.
"Scream for me Peach. Give me a squeal!" he yanked up on her hair, forcing her to stand. Tears fell down her face, as she was shoved into the first boy. "Hasn't she changed over the summer Don?" Don licked his lips at her, and smirked evilly.
She had a look of horror on her face. The two Muggle boys had tormented her often, all her life nearly, but never…they never touched upon that subject. She started thrashing in his arms, as he held her to him.
"Oh look Jake! Now she squirms. Oh baby, keep going!" He taunted her and breathed heavily in her hair. She whimpered, and turned her body away from him as much as she could. "You're right, she has changed over the summer. I almost wish we didn't go to soccer camp for the holidays. Could have played with her." She struggled harder. Beatings she could heal from and deal with. But not that…anything but that… "Well, we have a new game to play, don't we now?"
"A brand new game, what fun." They snickered together, dragging her backwards. She kicked her legs out, as they both dragged her to the back of a London pub. She heard the drone of club music in the background, pounding through the walls and perfectly blanketing the unseen commotion outside. Jake, the older of the two, pinned her to the wall and started to bite down on her ears cruelly, until they bled. She yelped and wept, putting up as much of a struggle as she could. Especially when she felt Don trying to unzip her fly.
"Hold still bitch!" Don barked, and punched her in the gut from his crouched position. It winded her, and stopped her struggling from the ain. "Good toy." He then looked up to Jake. "Swap you?"
"Nah, I like it up here, thanks." He licked the blood from her earlobe, and looked at her. The terror in her left eye was giving him a high as it was. He groaned, and nipped her jaw with no such gentle concern. He grabbed the neck of her already torn turtle neck, and tore it open over her chest. He saw her modest white bra over her milky breasts, ample in size for her age and smirked evilly. "I really like it up here."
"Let me see." Jake forgot about her pants for now, and shared a look with his brother. "I take one?"
"I'll take the other." She thrashed even harder, even as Jake grasped her right breast painfully. "Time to cut the games."
Just then, there was a scream from inside the night club, and the music screeched to a stop. Jake looked behind him to the back door, and watched it creak open slowly. Don however, had his hand up her back, trying to get the bra off. "Don…"
"Just a sec. Almost got it off. Then we can play." He chuckled, but Jake didn't laugh.
"Don…"
"What?" he looked back, and saw a sight that could chill Lucifer himself.
A man, tall, stood in a hooded cloak took a strong presence in the open doorway, several others stood behind him. But they all had white masks on. "…Who the fuck are you?" The Man looked over the scene, and raised a long 'stick'.
"Oh fuck off." Jake looked back to the girl, who was thrashing with tears still pouring down her face. She then opened her eyes and saw the dark figure, a wand outstretched threateningly. She then smiled softly at him.
A wizard, one of her kind. She was saved. She saw Don was transfixed on the stick, and let go of her arm. He pricked his finger on the end of the wand, and sneered.
"A stick? What kind of a pussy uses a stick? I think you meant to pull a gun out mate." With her right arm free, she raised it and did the one thing she had sworn never to do in 10 years.
She used her powers on another living being.
Don shot forward and crashed into the pub wall, sinking to the floor. Unconscious. He sprawled out in the rubbish, his only cushion, and looked like a rag doll, in the most inhuman position.
But he was still alive.
Jake let her go, and stared at her.
"What the fuck are you!" He then pulled a knife from his pocket, and pushed her firmly against the wall. "You will fucking pay for that you whore!" He stabbed her mercilessly in the gut, and she started to lurched, finding it hard to breath with the knife lodged in her diaphragm. Dark blood internally pooled and seeped out for al to see, crimson and foreboding. "Bitch." He pulled the knife out, and was about to slit her throat, when he jerked to a stop. He looked over his shoulder, and saw he was surrounded by the hooded figures. "Fuck off. I'm busy." He spat, and turned back to her.
"Arvada Kadavra." A harsh voice spoke calmly, and the girl whimpered again, as the body of her killer, as she knew she was dead, slummed against her. All she saw was a flash of green light before he fell against her, and she cried hard. "A witch?" she opened her eyes in pain, seeing the hooded man who killed her killer talking to her. She nodded, and he raised his wand again. "Filthy muggles." He spat to himself, and pulled a vial from his robes. He shoved the corpse from her, and pulled her gentle away from the wall. "Drink." He ordered. She shakily took the vial, though he held it with her to keep it steady, and poured the substance down her throat. She managed to drink it, but her legs buckled beneath her. He was sent to the floor, as she had been holding onto him. He snarled, and snapped his head down at her. He was sat on his backside now, and she was still holding onto his chest. He raised his wand a few inches, before he saw her face. Colour was returning to it, and her smile…
Her smile was devastatingly grateful and stunning. Her lips were a fresh rose colour, her skin a milky peach, and her jaw and ear had healed up instantly. He forced himself to look down at her gut, and upon seeing no more blood or a single wound, nodded to his men. He was amazed when she asked no questions, and let Lucius grab her elbows and pry her from him.
Still she smiled like a rescued angel.
Her hair shone, even in its ruffled state in the dim evening lighting. Her emerald eye twinkled, and she pulled away from Lucius. He raised his want at her instantly, until his master raised his hand to stop him. The girl ran to him and stopped right in front of him, awe in her eyes and joyful tears in her eyes. Or eye, from what he could see. 'Thank you', she mouthed, and looked at her hands before her. She gave him a nervous look, before throwing her arms around his neck.
He stumbled slightly, shocked utterly. His men were unsure of what to do, as was the master himself. Slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips, and he held her back. This was shocking enough for his men, until he held one arm around her waist, the other hand lifted her chin for him to get a good look at her. "What is your name?" She looked around for something. She then looked back to him, and looked distraught. She held both hands over her throat, opened her mouth, and no sound came out. She then pretended to write on her hand before him. He raised a brow, and scowled. "Are you deaf?" She shook her head. "Then why won't you speak?" She held her palm up, and summoned a piece of chalk. He opened his eyes wide at this, seeing clearing that she hadn't used a wand that time. He thought she hadn't before, and until now, he doubted what he saw. She could do Wandless magic! It was unheard of!
The girl walked away from him, and started to write big on the wall.
I'm mute. She lied. My name is Procella. "Procella. What a…individual name. Like no other." He looked her over, seeing her start to fuss over the front of her shirt, holding it together. "Do you have…any family?" She shook her head. "Friends?" Again, no. "Then perhaps…I could offer you both." Procella raised a brow, and blinked at him with confusion. "I wish to introduce you to our magical family. My family." He smirked evilly, formulating plans for her already, and grasped her hand. "Come." He then looked to the others. "Back to your families." He barked, and she watched them apparate. "And now, Procella." He pulled her into his arms possessively, and held her close almost…intimately. "You will come home with me. Your new master."
With a jerk, the scene faded into the next memory.
Second memory.
There was a yelp, as a girl fell forward into a room.
It was Procella, wearing nothing but a black bathrobe and crawling along the floor for dear life.
"Oh Procella, my dear. My little swan." He chuckled, and closed the door behind him. Now he wore no hooded cloak, letting her see the man beneath. The whites of his eyes were blood red, showing his recent soul splitting. But his hair was long and dark, his skin flawless, a strong jaw, dark eyes, tall, and very muscular. He was in his early twenties at the most, and looked very handsome.
Other than his eyes of course. "My elegant, graceful." He stalked up the room, Procella crawling backwards on the floor and staring up at him in fright.
It had been 3 months since he had rescued her. He brought her back here, to this maze of a mansion only Merlin knows where. At first she had been very eager in repaying him for his 'kindness'. He had after all saved her from being raped, and then healed her from being stabbed. He gave her a wonderful room to stay in, and had house elves tend to her every possible need. She did get lots of lusty looks from men in black cloaks and hoods while she wandered through the halls, but none of them touched her, as if afraid to. She had no idea where she was, but didn't really care.
She was safe and cared for, and for once, she had a friend. The very next day after being brought here, she had been introduced to her saviour. His name was Tom Riddle Junior, but he said to call him Tom.
Not that she could but she appreciated the thought. It was the thought that counted, right?
He brought her to a large dining room and dinned with her. They had a wonderful feast, and everything was either the finest food, wine, silver, gold, or gems in this place. There were Snake seals everywhere, on drapes and portraits, and even the clothes she had been given. It was strange being in robes, having travelled from place to place amongst muggles for so long. She had learnt sign language so she could get a job as a translator, until she got 'targeted' by her flat mates…
But she didn't think about that, other than when she told him about it. That was behind her now, and she was safe.
She learned that he was a very powerful wizard, as he was proud enough to tell her, and that he had plans for the Wizarding world. All valiant, she assumed in her naivety. He was her hero. Of course his cause was noble.
Then he magically charmed a gramophone to play both slow, and chipper old English dancing music. He danced very traditionally, and was very shocked when she hooked arms with him and square danced.
The guards at the door thought they would have to drag her body away any second now, but he simply laughed and asked her to teach him how to do it. He brought her books of all basic spells for her to learn, strangely encouraging her to learn all she can about her Wandless abilities. When he asked how she got them, she said (or wrote down) that she had adapted to not being able to speak, and so, no incantations, never having a wand, equals Wandless magic. Although he knew it was more than that, he accepted she knew nothing more. He even brought her into a special room where she could practice very iffy spells…she was very uncertain about using such charms and curses, but he was so supportive she just had to. She couldn't let her hero down, now could she?
He even taught her about potions, and brewing poisons like never printed in books. She started to grow suspicious when all he taught her would poison, intoxicate, influence, torture or even kill…but he had to be teaching her to defend herself. Right?
Then the spells got darker. She was blowing things up with a flick of the wrist, swelling things in size, making things literally shake apart, and shatter things to pieces. Then, she read another spell, and it was the last straw. He wanted her to learn the three most deadly curses she could think imaginable. Sure, she had never gone to a Wizarding school, but she had read the complex, intense volumes of the Riddle library, and knew more than any school could teach her. There was even a book of laws and punishments for the Wizarding world she got her hands on when he wasn't looking, and knew the spells he wanted her to do were forbidden. They were the three unforgivable curses, and she couldn't bring herself to do them.
Of course at this he got angry at her refusal to continue her defence against the dark arts studies, as he called it, and had her locked in her room for a week.
The next morning however, he had come to her door with a sincere apology, and something about missing her. He didn't pressure her to try and perform the spells for a long time, in stead eating meals with her and dancing again. Then she finally got to go outside, and he took her on a Hippogriff ride. The funny thing is, he had to cast a spell on it to make it bow to him, and let him ride it. The spell began with Im, but she didn't hear it properly. Her Hippogriff bowed before she did, and eagerly let her ride him.
This impressed Tom, and he gave her another book as a present. This one was different to all the others.
Her other books had been about potions, history of magic, DADA, transfiguration and factual books.
This one was a novel, a fictional love novel with erotic scenes that made her toes curl. She blushed at one point, when Tom chuckled from behind her. She snapped the book shut, as he had been reading with her at a very inappropriate bed scene…
However, all he said was. "Been there, done that. And it is much more interesting with silk ropes, not hand cuffs." That comment was solely to make her nervous and she didn't appreciate it. She blushed madly and didn't look at him until his laughter subsided. He apologised, and resorted to commenting on what a lovely neck she had. Long, slender, like a swan.
A month later and he was getting impatient about something, and she asked about it. He snarled at her and said it was not her place to question him. When she recoiled back, his face fell and he apologised instantly, asking her to forgive him.
He spent every day with her now, eating together, dancing, him talking about everything and anything, that didn't give anything away. And then one day…
Procella sat at the vanity table in her lush room. She wore a long white medieval looking dress, with a green sash tied to one side, her hair curled over her right eye and as golden as ever. She smiled as she brushed it in the mirror. Her dress looked like a white friar robe, then make it smooth, elegant and velvet, with bell sleeves at her elbows and no hood. She wore green slipper shoes, and the rim around the V of the neck was also green.
She continued to brush her hair, content with life, when a voice spoke softly behind her.
"I will do that." She blinked as Tom took the silver snake brush with soft horse hair bristles, and summoned a chair behind her. He sat, and gently resumed brushing her hair. "Good morning." She smiled, and nodded in reply. He knew by now that meant, 'and you' or 'thank you'. He didn't mind either reply, and shuffled to sit right behind her. Today, his sleek black hair was soft and tidy (other than the flicks at the back) and he wore black and green robes. His red eyes looked to her in the mirror, and she just smiled. He then leaned forward and put the brush down. "My little swan." He lifted a lock of her silky hair, and brushed his cheek with it. "What shall we do today, mm?" she shrugged and continued to smile. "I have a suggestion." He whispered in her ear, and kissed it lightly. Procella was so shocked, she just gaped at the mirror reflection of him. He brushed her hair out the way with one hand, and dragged his teeth down her neck. "I love your neck." he whispered, eyes closed, and his hands rested on her shoulders. "You are perfect, my little swan. Perfect." He stood, and held a hand out to her. Blushing, she took it, hoping he wasn't going to do, what he actually did. Upon standing, he pulled her against him and smashed their mouths together. Procella yelped as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She brought her hands up and pressed her fingertips on his chin. They parted thanks to this, and she smiled sympathetically. She then pointed to her eye, and mouthed 'sorry'. She didn't want to cause any offence, and didn't want to hurt his feelings either. He had been so good to her. He raised a brow, and then leaned in to kiss her again. But when she leaned back out of his reach, he raised a brow in impatience. "Are you refusing me?" she nodded with an apologetic look on her face, ignoring the undertone threat in his voice. She then cupped his hands and held them before her, patting them. "Are you saying, you just want to be friends?" he looked at her severely, but she understood he would be upset. She nodded, and smiled softly, still holding her hands gentle. It might sting, but she knew he would understand. He was a gentleman, after all.
He still stared at her gone out, and then laughed almost evilly at her. "My dear, I think it is time to pop the little bubble I have let you live within during you stay in my house." He cackled, and grabbed her wrist painfully. "I have been civil." He smirked with evil mirth, and dragged her out the room. She resisted him solely because of the murderous glint in his eyes. But he was stronger than him, and she was soon thrown into a new room.
His room.
It was dark, mirroring his inner self and the sadistic look on his face, made her shudder.
This wasn't the man she thought she knew.
"You see my dear, my little swan." He began, and raised his wand at the air. "Watch this." He wrote his name leaving red wisps behind, writing Tom Marvolo Riddle. "Do you like anagrams my dear? See if you can make anything from that. You are so smart after all, I treasure that about you. You look so simple, and yet have so many delightful secrets." He pushed her forward, and made her look at the words. "I will give you a hint." He waved his wand, and some of the letters zoomed to the side to spell 'I am Lord'. "I am sure you can do the rest." He cast a silencing spell on the door, and looked back to Procella. She was whimpering and shivering in fear. "Guessed who your courteous host is yet? Your, knight in shining armour?" he snickered, as he saw the realisation in her emerald eye. 'Voldemort', she mouthed slowly with fear. "Yes, I am Lord Voldemort. In the flesh." He smirked, and chuckled evilly. "Do you know, you are the most powerful woman in the world right now?" He grabbed her upper arms roughly, and chuckled against her ear. Tears were falling down her face. "You have the protection, and the attention of the most powerful wizard there ever was. Doesn't that make you feel special?" he said slightly softer, and licked her ear lobe. He then tucked her hair behind it properly, and snaked his arms around her waist. "Procella Consensio." She gasped. "Oh yes, I know your last name. I know all about you…and your father. Or should I say, your late father?" he pushed her forward until she fell back onto a bed, cowering in fear. "That was a very nice trick you did. And you didn't think I would find out about your heritage? When I have started negotiations with your kind? Or your mother's kind, should I say." He then pushed her down, and pinned her. "As you are no Banshee, my little swan." He groaned as he smelt her hair. "My darling little swan. Do you know why you have not been raped by my death eaters?" she whimpered. This was Voldemort, those men were his death eaters. And she was laid beneath the most evil man that lived.
He kissed the end of her nose. "Because they dare not touch, what is my property." He then straddled her, and looked down on her. "If only you had chosen me willingly. I was the perfect gentleman, was I not?" Procella was on her back, leaning up on her elbows and whimpering with tears falling down her face. He lowered his wand, and tucked her fringe away from her right eye with it. "I was good to you. I taught you what those filthy muggles couldn't dream of. I saved you from being touched by one of them. I saved you, for myself." He saw the fear in her eyes, and frowned. "I did everything possible for you. Gave you gifts, a safe home, protection, food, a roof over your head and a warm fire…good company…I gave you everything you could ever want." His voice was softer now, and he crawled over her. "I gave you everything. And now, I can give you so much more." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "I can give you the world. By my side you could rule it with me, my queen swan." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Be willing my pet, I can give you everything. Anything your heart desires shall be yours. I have chosen you to be my wife Procella, and the mother of my children." Her lips opened in shock, and she leaned back. "I wish to strengthen my bloodline, with power." He purred. "And you certainly have power."
So that is why he was so supportive about teaching me, he wanted to see if I was powerful enough to be his wife! "And lot's of it." He cupped her face with one hand, the other still holding his wand carelessly by his side. "And there are other reasons…" he kissed her lips gently, before she could stop him. "You are a beauty like nothing I have ever seen. And you soul is so pure, like no other. And when you smile, I feel your soul giving me peace. The closer I get, the warmer I feel. I want to feel the warmth Procella. I want to feel your warmth." He kissed her with more hunger, pushing her back against the bed. "I am Lord Voldemort to everyone outside that door. But in here, with you, I can be Tom Riddle. A man I remember, when I am with you. Love me Procella, and I will give you such gifts, such joy, that you will never feel a sad moment ever again." He pleaded, and grabbed her sash. "Marry me Procella." She whimpered. "Marry me." He closed his eyes, and leaned to kiss her again. But she covered her mouth and he growled. "Why do you resist me!" he glared down at her, his grip on his wand tightening. "Have I not been good to you?" she nodded out of fright. "Have I not been kind and enjoyable company?" She nodded again. "Then why do you refuse me so!" She sat up, and pulled away from him. She hugged her knees with one arm, and drew in the air with her finger. Tears streamed down her face silently, and she waved her hand, turning the message round for him to see.
You are Lord Voldemort.
Four words.
Four words that stung him more than any curse, any injury or any one person had ever hurt him before. "You…you mean you will not accept my love, because I am myself!" he roared. It was the most frustrating thing to ever happen to him. Another message appeared.
I would like it if you stopped. He didn't take that kindly either. "I would not have met you unless I was Lord Voldemort!" He spat, grabbing her wrists and throwing her down. "I would not have saved you if I were not Lord Voldemort. And I would have not been able to give you such things, such extravagant gifts if I were not Lord Voldemort! Doesn't that matter to you?" When she slowly shook her head, he snarled with fury. "Well, I am Lord Voldemort and you will be my wife." She shook her head even more, but he cackled and looked to her with a sadistic smirk. "And this is where you no longer have a choice in the matter. You are mine, forever!" Procella pushed up against his chest, and he looked down at her with a hurt expression. Upon seeing his face, she stopped resisting. He looked so rejected. "I love you Procella. That is why I have given you such gifts, my home, my hand, my love…the entire world can be ours. Because I would share it with you." He had become tender again, tracing her cheek with the same hands that had ended the lives of many. "I will not accept your refusal, and I know you will grow to love me with time." He reassured himself more than her, and kissed her cheek gently, ignoring her flinching. "You shall sleep in this bed, my bed from now on. I have watched you take another door to mine for so long, and allowed it for all this time. No longer." Procella grabbed his shoulders suddenly, and tossed him over. She then clambered off the bed, and ran for the door. She pulled on the handle, but he had magically sealed it. Damn. "Oh little swan…" she looked over her shoulder in horror. "You are starting to hurt my feelings." He cooed, reluctant to believe she didn't want him. He couldn't.
Procella pulled the window open, but he pulled her back quickly. "If you are warm you should have said so." He waved his wand, and summoned a breeze. "There." He chuckled, and hugged her to him. He frowned when she didn't stop struggling for freedom, and lost his temper again. He threw her to the floor, and paced, furious once more. "You should be at least civil with your fiancé!" He snarled, and pulled her to her feet by her wrists. "You will learn, oh yes, you will learn. And you will learn to love my company. To love me." He crashed his lips against hers, and everything faded…
Third memory.
"And how are you this evening Lucius?"
"Wonderful my lord." A platinum blonde headed, aristocrat Lucius Malfoy bowed before his lord in his finest robes. "I have wonderful news. Straight from our favourite potion's master."
"Oh, do tell." The master and death eater conversed on business matters, while Procella sat on the bottom step of the ladder, which was attached to the book case. They were in the library, and Procella was as far from the two as humanly possible. They were talking about their recent developments at either gaining even more support, or their latest success. And the word Hogwarts always came up some time or another.
But she really didn't listen. All Procella thought about was her plan of escape.
Tom had left her alone for the morning, sulking with her for A, not talking to him, and B, trying to run away.
Again.
Her first attempt had been to get up out of the bed the very next morning, not waking him, and running for it. Only for the door to repel her, and wake up a rather cranky dark lord. He punished her with taking her gifts away, letting her wear a plain dress and have no access to her books.
Not that she cared. All she wanted was her freedom. He had stopped shielding her from his true evil intent, forcing her to be present in meetings, and usually by his side.
The only thing she could be grateful for these days, was her health, and her virginity. He kissed her, groped her, but never sexually used her. He said he wanted to keep her just perfect for their wedding night.
Something else that worried her. He was talking about setting a date for it now.
As Procella scribbled down her now memorised plan of the house, she started to think of multiple escape routes, when she heard her name. "Procella, my little swan. Come to me." He said softly to her. She frowned. He was talking so kind to her, like he was still just Tom Riddle. Not Lord Voldemort who had just been given a scroll from his death eater, with the allegiance of another pureblood family signed to their cause. "I have decided you have been punished enough for today. Come and sit with me." He still sat in the comfy chair, and held a hand out for her to take. His red eyes were still as daunting, and his black hair behind his ears.
Slowly, with a sigh, Procella pocketed her plans and held the book she had been hiding it in to her chest. As she made her way to him, her face hung forward and her eyes (one eye from his view) were closed. She didn't smile like she used to. She was no longer a guest of her hero, but a captive of her tormentor. "I see you have taken a shining to my personal favourite." He chuckled. But she hadn't really seen which book she had picked up. Just a book, just to look busy. When she looked bored, he would take it upon himself to 'keep her entertained'. She stood before him, and waited. "Medieval curses. Light reading, but good for a laugh." He then patted the thick arm of the chair, and Procella obediently sat on it. The first few times he told her to sit by him in such a way, she refused and he didn't force her.
No, instead he pulled her onto his lap, convinced that that was what she really wanted, and nuzzled her neck in the presence of his followers. When she moved away from his touch, he simple commented to his men she was shy with affection.
So she sat on the left arm of the chair to him, and felt him trace a long finger up her arm tenderly. "Did you enjoy it?" she nodded. Anything for him to stop acting so nice to her. Because she knew now it was a farce. He would get angry with her soon enough. He always did. "Then you may have it. I would prefer for you to enjoy it, then it gather dust on my shelf." He then looked to Lucius. "How is your wife these days?"
"The pregnancy went well. She is recovering with our new son at Malfoy Manor."
"And a name?"
"Draco, my lord."
"Ah, yes. A strong name. he shall one day be as useful and renowned amongst our family ranks as you, I believe." He then stroked her back. "Wouldn't that be nice dear? A father and son in the business?" she nodded on autopilot. I hope for his sake he doesn't have to be your servant. Like his father. She looked away. You have no respect. Only fear.
"My Lord, if I may be so bold, may I ask when the wedding shall be? As I have been under you orders of course, looking at special venues for a protected binding ceremony."
"Wonderful." He beamed, still caressing her back. "And are all the sites secure?"
"All but three. But that leaves a choice between 7 sites, My lord."
"7. What a lucky number." He chuckled, and caught Procella off guard. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to sit across his lap. He quickly bared his arms around her waist, and held her to him. After her initial struggling stopped, he took a deep breath in her golden hair. "I believe…I can wait another month." Procella's eyes opened wide. A month! I have a month to get away! She panicked, and looked around as if hoping someone would come in and save her.
She didn't want to marry Voldemort, and she certainly didn't want to have the wedding night with him. Merlin knows what he will not do to her.
She unfortunately, had to listen to him telling her last night what he was going to do to her. It made a lump of fear rise up in her throat at the abundance of 'toys' he had in mind.
"I shall look into this, my lord. An exact month?"
"From today. Yes, soon my love." He pulled her closer into his non-reciprocated embrace. "Soon we shall be truly married." He then gave Lucius a look, that made him hurry out of the library, closing the door behind him. She felt a finger lift her chin, and she looked back round to him. His blood red eyes drank in her face, and he smiled with delight. "My little swan. You are perfect. You are mine. And I wish to give you something." He tenderly kissed her lips, one arm curling around her, and his other hand pulling something from his robes. "We are engaged, and yet, you are missing something. I hope you like it." He whispered, and produced a dark velvet box. Procella knew what was inside it before it opened, but watched him open it anyway. Inside was a silver ring, with an emerald in the middle, and small diamond petals surrounding it. Dainty, yet very Slytherin. "Here, try it on." She didn't get chance to refuse, as he slipped it onto her wedding finger with such speed, it was like liquid. He must have thought she would refuse. "I thought you would be too modest to accept it at first, but I know you will like it." He kissed her cheek, and she turned away from him. "Still moody are we?" He sighed. "I am sorry for taking your books away, but you shouldn't run off like that. Being the fiancé of the Dark Lord makes you a target. You will need to be more careful, not just go for a walk on your own, with no one to guard you." Go for a walk? I was running flat out down the stairs and out the back door! "If you wanted a midnight stroll, I would be happy to accompany you." He just refused to see the truth. Even in her O.O expression. In his mind, she loved him as much as he did her. And nothing would change his mind. Even the truth.
Procella looked down at the ring, and started to take it off. "No, it stays on." He chuckled. "I told you, don't be modest. I want you to have it." When she persisted to try and pull it off from under his hand, he slowly scowled. "This is a sign that you are my wife. This is my mark on you." But she pulled it off, and scampered out of his lap. She placed the ring respectively on the side table, and looked down.
He was angry again. It was only a matter of time. "I said, that is my mark on you!" oh yes, he was angry again. "That ring is my way of marking you as mine! My wife! That is my mark!" Procella flinched with each punctuated word…and then he chuckled darkly. "Oh I understand. You are right of course, that isn't my mark." She looked up in fright, as his wand came out of his robes. In all of the 2 months she had been here from his first admitting who he was, he had never raised his wand to her. Until now. "But you will have my mark." The end of the wand burnt white hot. "My true mark." Procella whimpered, dropped the book to the floor and backed away as much as she could. Right up against the book case.
Blur……
"Why do you run Procella? Why does my darling, little, swan run from her lover?"
You are not my lover! She screamed mentally. And you never will be! Procella had moved her hands over the books behind her, and found a secret passage. She ran down it, devastated when she got to the other end of the upward staircase.
His room.
Obviously Tom followed her, and locked the door behind him. He was certainly pleased to find her here.
Procella ran back into the room, her emerald eyes wide with fear, and her hands pulling anything she could get them on to make obstacles between her, and Voldemort. But he waved his wand and dispelled them all. He then grabbed her upper arms, and shoved her against the wall. "It hurts a lot less if you hold still, my love." He spat, pushing her down to the floor. He then flicked his wand, and her sleeve tore away from her left arm. He prowled over her, looking down as she cried and whimpered. He lowered to his knees, straddling up from her and looking very malevolent from her angle. The sadistic look of power on his face mixed with his blood red eyes, made him the Dark Lord she knew he was. Strange, that didn't matter before she knew who he was. She was willing to overlook that, until she discovered how many people he killed. It wasn't his looks that scared her. Only his actions. He then seemed to soften his gaze on her, and frowned. "I must mark you. No one else may ever claim you, never." He convinced himself this was the right thing, and grabbed her left wrist. True to herself, Procella thrashed against him, but couldn't pull her arm free. He then released her, to her relief, and looked at her curiously. "You are my property, like my death eaters. You shall carry my mark, like my death eaters…but you are not like them." he crawled over her, and licked her nose. "You are far more important to me. So I shall not brand you like I do them. They are expendable. You, are not." He then roughly fisted at the hip of her dress, and tossed her onto her front. Procella yelped and sobbed as he clawed and tore her dress open at the back, until he could see her bare peachy skin. He moaned upon seeing her bare back, and smoothed his hands over her, making her shudder. He then stroked the small of her back, and smiled to himself. "Yes, the perfect place." He shuffled down and kissed the very centre of his target place, the small of her back, just above her bum, and pulled away.
Procella dung her hands into the carpet, her teeth, and her toes as he magically burnt the mark into her skin. Tears soaked the floor beneath her, and she had to keep biting at the carpet to stop herself screaming in pain. She shivered violently and writhed under the torture. All the time, she plotted her escape, her way away from this man. she would never relent, never give in to him.
Escape.
That is what she focused on as he marked her for life.
Escape, survive.
Her very consciousness centred around those words.
Escape, survive, win.
She would win this trail she had been forced into by fate, and she would never let herself be here again.
Tonight she may be sobbing in a foetal position, in the arms of the man who had inflicted the pain upon her and weak.
But tomorrow, tomorrow was another story all together. She had her route, she had her motivation.
She was not going to be here in a month. She would escape tomorrow if she could. And if she was captured, she would try again, and again, and again. She now had a permanent reminder why she fought against Tom, Voldemort, the dark lord. It was black and green, a skull and serpent. And it would be with her forever, to keep her on the way of justice. The pain she had endured through that night changed her life. She would remember that pain, and never fall for any trick of a kind stranger again.
Dark hair, dark eyes, dark demur, dark persona, dark anything and she would be cautious.
Hell, even nervous.
And she would not make the mistake of thinking jolly bright people could be trusted either. Not unless she could see what they were thinking…
You will never touch me again Tom, never again…
End memory.
