Happy week friends! Oh wait, WEEKEND. Time is flying. I'm happy to report I didn't melt this week and enjoy it very much! I hit some writers block which is why this chapter is late, but we made it through and here we are. All I can say about this chapter is...you should never trust me to write a story AHAH.
Alright, I'm headed to a friends but hope to chat with you all soon!
❤️
When day broke across the ocean before them, Penny seemed to wake from a trance, her hand reaching into her pocket and remembering that Tonks had confiscated what she'd apparently become so reliant on. With a yawn and a stretch, Penny watched the pinkish glow move its way into the sky, sending streaks across what had been emptiness moments prior.
Turning to her left she found dark eyes, they betrayed no tiredness, surveying her as the sun made it across the sea to hit her face and blind her. Squinting from the brightness on top of furrowing her brow quizzically, she watched him, having the distinct feeling that something was lingering in the air between them. But whatever it was never left his lips, and breaking away from her he got to his feet, offering her a hand when he'd straightened.
Utterly baffled by the polite gesture and wondering momentarily if Snape was actually Snape or someone doing an awful job at being Snape, she accepted his hand.
"Am I free to go or are you still holding me hostage?" said Penny.
Glancing away momentarily, he clung to her hand a little tighter as she tried to pull it free. "We have breakfast plans."
"We? And when exactly was the me in this we going to get a say in these mystery plans?"
"You weren't."
"And why's that?" Penny said, eyes narrowed.
"Because the Dark Lord does not take no for an answer. Now come, we mustn't keep him waiting and you still need to change."
"Hard pass—" Penny said, trying to squirm away, but Snape had already disapparated with her in tow. "Hey! Excuse me but need I remind you that you can't just toss your student at the feet of your master anytime you feel like it!" Penny argued, trying to dig her feet into the ground, but it did nothing to stop him tugging her over the threshold of Spinners End.
"I assure you, Potter, I take no pleasure in the task, and given the choice would all too gladly not witness whatever suicidal whim you throw yourself at during this event, but as it stands, I have as little say in the matter as you. There is clothing for you upstairs courtesy of the host," Snape said, a tone of finality in his voice.
As irritated as Penny was about the predicament, she begrudgingly accepted Snape's word without argument, knowing full well he would have done all in his power to keep her as far from the Dark Lord as he could, had that been an option. Meaning, the situation was perhaps more precarious for him than she normally gave him credit for.
Sighing in irritation, she made her way upstairs and into the room that had once been hers, and on her neatly made bed was a large white box wrapped in an absurdly decorative bow. Inside Penny found a long black dress that made her scowl. Putting it on, she couldn't help the groan that followed as she looked down on an almost completely bare chest.
It should not have surprised her that Lord Voldemort would want to parade her like some object, but it felt no less repulsive. The black number's sleeves rested off her shoulders, allowing the front to cut deep through her cleavage making her feel like some Greek Goddess. It was evident to Penny that the purpose was to ensure her mark was on full display, a symbol of the Dark Lord's ownership. The rest of the dress was quite form fitting and the material oddly light and breathable, extending into a small vertically pleated skirt that stopped just shy of her toes. Even if she was going to be in danger of exposing her boobs all day, at least she could sit comfortably.
Moving to the mirror, Penny took a deep breath and then looked at herself. She had not worn clothing that exposed her chest since before she received the mark, and only ever saw it if she happened to glance in the mirror when showering, which was not often because doing so often tempted Penny toward various types of self-mutilation she knew could not remove the thing.
The only thing going for Penny in the attire was her long locks of red hair that hung in waves just past her breasts. Brushing them out and trying to force them into covering as much of her mark as possible, Penny's mind wandered to Lupin and how he had often told her he loved her hair and that it sometimes fooled him into believing she were some kind of mermaid, come from the sea to show him the wonders of the world he had not yet seen.
Eyes welling with tears, Penny yanked her brush from her hair in anger with a strangled yell. The stabbing pain that thinking on Lupin induced reminded her of the words he'd spoken to her, words that tore all the comfort she'd ever received from him from the heart that loved him. Suddenly, in a fit of agony, rage and self-loathing, Penny could not stand to look upon herself and see the same stupid reflection that had always looked back; she could not stand the hair that had once made him smile like that at her.
Dropping the brush into the sink, Penny was already half-way to the upstairs sitting room, making a b-line for Snape's desk and rummaging in the drawers until she found what she was looking for. Wiping the tears angrily from her cheek, she took the scissors in one hand and a long lock of hair in the other, but before she could remove the offensive thing from her head, Snape's hand stopped her.
She hadn't noticed him enter, but he'd clearly noticed her tantrum, she hadn't really tried to be quiet about it.
"Is something the matter, Potter?" he said, black eyes following the streaks of tears to the puffy eyes and then to the atrocious dress, lingering momentarily on her chest.
"No, I'm just getting dressed," she lied.
"With scissors?" he said with an unconvinced arch of his brow.
"Yes, they're generally required when you want shorter hair."
"And this new haircut couldn't wait until later or a hairdresser?" he drawled.
"I can do it myself just fine."
"With no mirror and a pair of paper cutting scissors? You'll forgive me for being unconvinced that chopping your hair off here in my office will result in anything reminiscent of a decent haircut."
"I do not care what it looks like, I just want it gone," Penny said, setting her jaw. "And why would you care? Shouldn't you be happy if I make myself ugly? Won't it make your job easier?"
"What I care about, Potter, is what has upset you. If the hair needs to go in order for you to feel better, then by all means, allow me," he said, plucking the scissors from her hand.
"Y-you'd cut my hair for me?" Penny said, eyebrows crinkling in bemusement.
"Certainly, Potter. Do you trust me to cut it straight?"
"Honestly?"
"I have never known you to miss an opportunity to insist I am dismal at something," Snape said, taking that as consent and pulling a lock of her and measuring it against her face.
"You can't say that like you don't love it. We both know you like me because I'm not afraid to tell you the truth."
"I like you for many reasons, Potter, but your inclination to exaggerate your opinions is not one of them," he said, his dark eyes moving away from her hair to find the green ones.
The breath caught in Penny's chest and the blood beneath her cheeks seemed to heat up, making her face burn. In what alternate universe was she suddenly stuck in that Severus Snape, the most aloof man she had ever met, would openly admit to liking her, Penny Potter? He had spent all the years they'd known each other assuring her of each and every defect in her that made it impossible to do exactly that. So at which point had they arrived here, where it was she who stood before him floundering for words, unable to comprehend what it was that she felt. All Penny knew was that she believed those words coming from him. And with a small smile, she looked away from him toward the ground and let those words reach that aching heart inside her and remind how nice it could sometimes make her feel.
A gentle finger under her chin encouraged her to look forward again, and without hesitation, he cut that first lock of hair letting it tumble to their feet. Meticulously measuring the strand on the opposite side of her face, he cut that as well, and then moved to make quick work of the rest of her head. Setting the scissors down, he considered his handiwork.
"How do I look?" Penny said, forcing a lopsided grin to her face in an attempt to hide her nerves. Why did she suddenly care what Snape thought of the way she looked?
"Like my job just got exponentially more tedious," he said, almost begrudgingly.
Uncertain what the man meant by that, Penny opted not to ask for clarification, allowing her mind to delude itself into believing maybe what he said was a compliment.
Flicking his wand, Snape gathered up her hair, pulled a ribbon from one of his drawers, tied it around the hair and then set it on the desk.
Now free of the hair, Penny made for her room, finding two chunky golden bangles and a cloak still in the box. Putting the bangles on, she returned to the mirror. The reflection before her confused her at first. Penny had been a little kid the last time she had short hair. Aunt Petunia, for whatever reason, had insisted on never letting Penny cut it, and so Penny had just become accustomed to it. The change was dramatic, Penny tugging at the strand nearest her face, it fell barely past her chin, accentuating her heart-shaped face, and drawing attention to her lips. Even short, her hair still retained its waves, and looking at it from all sides, Penny decided she rather liked what Snape had done—it made her feel lighter somehow.
Dusting the remnants of hair from her shoulders, she grabbed the cloak and found Snape downstairs waiting for her. She paused on the last step to adjust her shoe, but stopped when she finally noticed him watching her, his eyes trailing over her attire, surveying her from head to toe, features darkening as he did so. It was a look that told her neither of them were going to be very amused with the attention she should receive today.
At the end of his pathway, they disappeared, appearing again on the all-too-familiar drive that led to the Malfoy manor. While beautiful, it was a place Penny really never wanted to see again. Taking the cloak from her, Snape placed it upon her shoulders, pulled the hood over her head and then proceeded to loop his arm through hers and pulled her close. With their close proximity Penny could not help but note how stiff he was, a detail that told her that whatever this visit was, it seemed Snape would be just as surprised as she.
That annoying mist that had been lingering all summer shrouded their way, sending a horrible shiver down Penny's spine. The scenery was a little too ominous for Penny's liking, especially considering at this time in summer it was typically much warmer. It was like the mist was sucking out all the warmth not only from the air around them, but within Penny, reminding her of a dementor. Doing her best not to acknowledge those things which tried to find their way to the surface of her mind, she followed in silence across the gravel and into that grand entrance, Snape leading them to the right and stopping as the servant at the door announced their arrival.
Shoulders back and head up, Penny entered, all eyes turning on them as they entered the sitting room. It was larger than any normal room Penny had seen and was strewn with about a dozen or so people most of whom were wearing black Death Eater robes, except Narcissa Malfoy who wore green. Some sat on large cushioned chairs, others leaned against the walls, but all of them faced the same direction, toward that vile creature who sat idly in his chair beside the fire, red eyes gleaming as they entered.
A hushed murmur followed them as they made their way toward that creature, Snape stopping just shy of Voldemort and kneeling, "My Lord,"
Penny followed suit, but silently, casting her eyes to the ground, her heart speeding up exponentially in her chest. What she wouldn't give to be anywhere but here .
"Ah, Severus. I was just telling your brothers why it was you that I trusted to bring the guest of honor. They seemed to doubt your loyalty due to your intentions to marry the girl. So how about we show them why it is that Severus Snape has the favor of Lord Voldemort, hmm?" that cold voice said softly. "Come here, Penelope."
Before she could so much as take a steadying breath, a force like a gust of wind sent her sliding across the floor, skidding her to a stop at Voldemort's feet, Penny's wide, fearful eyes forced upward by a finger beneath her chin.
Terror and pain taking a violently abrupt hold of her, she let out quivering breath as she was consumed by red, frozen in place and thought.
"Good girl," he cooed, the finger on her chin now skimming across her cheek in an almost affectionate manner, if drawing pleasure from her pain and fear could be considered affection, but there was no doubt he enjoyed to toy with her like this—the mouse caught in his trap.
Getting to his feet, he smiled to the room around them as he offered her a long, elegant hand, Penny accepting it though every fiber in her body screamed in protest as soon as his cold flesh connected with hers. When she was upright, Voldemort took her by the shoulders and turned her, his body pressed much too close to hers, making her skin crawl.
Closing her eyes in an attempt not to be sick, Penny tried to master her legs, which shook beneath her and threatened to send her tumbling to the ground from the heightened pain caused by his nearness.
In an exaggerated fashion, he pulled the hood from Penny's head, undid the clasp at her chest, and pulled the cloak from her shoulders, letting it tumble to their feet.
Vision blurring, Penny teetered dangerously, uncertain how long she would be able to remain upright. But Voldemort steadied her.
"The Dark Mark!" a female voice screeched. "But master, this blood-traitor is a Potter! And yet you have honored her with the mark of your most loyal?"
Eyes focusing, Penny found the creature her heart hated most. Her eyelids heavy over dark eyes, dark hair falling well past her shoulders, those features of her holding remnants of the handsomeness her cousin's also once held—stood Bellatrix Lestrange, looking overcome with fury.
"Bellatrix asks the question I imagine the rest of you also desire the answer to. And as my most loyal, you shall have it. Do not deceive yourselves into thinking it is lost on your Lord that you knelt before me and willing chose that mark which unites you. You all will remember it was I who gave them to you, an important distinction because our young friend here was not so willing," Voldemort breathed into her ear, the long finger on her shoulder trailing its way across her chest toward the mark, a quiet laugh following when she whimpered. "And it was not I, but Severus who gave it to her."
The room broke into a collective murmur, eyes darting toward Snape, who remained kneeling, watching the demonstration, his features betraying none of his thoughts, nor daring to meet hers.
"Unfortunate birth or not, Penelope is quite useful to me, something she has so kindly agreed to demonstrate today," Voldemort went on, cruel amusement dripping from his voice as he paused, eyes fixed to her face while he allowed his implication to sink in before continuing. "So when my most useful servant asked for her hand, he received it upon condition. Our dear Penelope would need care, nurturing of these talents that serve me, and who better to be given such a task than the one who has already so successfully melded her into the fascinating creature who stands before you today. Your brother, Severus, upon my asking and without complaint gave Penelope this mark. Each and every time he desires her flesh as men do, he will be reminded that while I have benevolently bestowed upon him a wife, Penelope remains my pet. I ask you, is that not loyalty to be rewarded?" Voldemort said so quietly, Penny wondered if anyone actually heard his words.
Returning his attention to her chest, Voldemort traced the length of her mark, making it burn as he did so. Penny was forced to bite her lip in an effort not to scream as the Death Eaters shouted their agreement with their Lord. Arriving at the serpent's head, Voldemort stopped, lingering there, his hot breath skimming her cheek as he looked greedily upon it.
At this point, it was only a matter of moments before Penny finally collapsed from pain. Her entire body was now openly shaking, breathing coming in ragged huffs from the effort to force her muscles to remain standing. Her vision blurring past any level of recognition as the people who stood snickering at her evident agony became nothing more than a mass of black. Her pain now at a fever pitch, her eyes gave up the battle and started watering, humiliating her further.
Penny didn't know why she was struggling so hard, it did nothing for her except to bestow more agony upon her. If she would just allow herself to collapse she would be free of his touch, of his grotesque claim of ownership of her. But the fury in her chest, it refused to give him that satisfaction, to crumple at his feet like a weak girl before the others. Pointless or not, it was that fire inside of Penny, the one that still wanted to believe this was her life, not his, that compelled her onward, finding strength where she had none; refusing to give the Dark Lord what he wanted.
"Master, there must be another who could be equally as useful so you need not soil yourself with such filth—" Bellatrix spat, But Voldemort stopped her, releasing Penny and stepping around her.
Penny would have felt relief at being released if it were not for the all-consuming hatred that was boiling beneath the surface of her skin that consumed her at the sight of Bellatrix standing before her, a living, breathing reminder of Sirius falling through that cursed veil.
"There is no other Bellatrix, as you are aware, Penny's gifts are quite unique. "
"Grindelwald! Surely he would be better suited!" Bellatrix said, on her feet now, dark eyes snapping to Penny in evident dislike. "Give the word and I would retrieve him for you."
"You do not seem to understand, Bellatrix. It is not Grindelwald I want; it is not Grindelwald I share blood with."
"My Lord, that is exactly my point! She, this ,"—Belltatrix spat, moving toward Penny and looking haughtily down on her— "is not fit to be bestowed with such an honor. She should be carved up and sent piece by piece back to that brother, then they all might—" but Bellatrix had made a single grave mistake in her arrogance, in her assumption that Penny was some pitiful creature to be looked down upon, and placed her hand too close to the caged beast within Penny.
And in utter loss of all her senses, consumed only by the need to make Bellatrix pay, Penny threw all her weight at the tall woman, tackling her, completely unaware of the commotion that erupted around them.
Bellatrix let out an infuriated shriek when she collided with the floor, her hands trying to protect her face from the barrage hailing down from an incensed Penny who did not care what she hit, how much she got hurt in the process; she just wanted to draw blood, to return to Bellatrix the pain she had given Penny by stealing Sirius from her. Though her form was sloppy, Penny's hands still managed to collide with flesh several times, sending blood spurting. But she did not take any pains to protect her own face and received two blows before a soft threatening voice pierced through her fever dream, reminding her in what company and danger she currently sat.
Head turning almost comically toward the owner of the voice, Penny found the displeasure glinting in the red, and in utter horror ceased her barrage and recoiled as though she'd been hit by his words. He'd only said her name, and still it'd been enough—Penny scrambled backwards, clambering off Bellatrix and away from the monster who was now advancing on her. He stopped beside Bellatrix, removing his gaze from Penny only long enough to help her from the floor, Bellatrix spitting out a mouthful of blood as she went, reaching for her wand, but Voldemort's hand stopped her.
Penny's back collided with Voldemort's chair, leaving her utterly cornered, eyes darting and finally noting how everyone else in the room was on their feet, their wands outstretched, pointing at her— even Snape's. None of them moved, but waited for Voldemort's order, which was to wave them away as he took a slow step toward Penny..
"Do you see now, why it is she and not Grindelwald I have chosen?"
The vindictive look on Bellatrix's face quickly became one of confusion and then concern as she turned to her master and found a look of amusement on his face in place of the wrath she had likely hoped to see.
"A single word," he said in answer to the question Bellatrix had yet to ask. "That is all it took for Penelope to cower before me, and oh how she trembles," Voldemort said, continuing his slow progress toward Penny. "My servant, Severus has molded her from a tender age and made her into something a man like Grindelwald could never be— mine, " he hissed, stopping just before Penny. He towered over her, red gleaming with unnatural excitement.
Closing her eyes and breathing coming in short gasps, Penny tried to imagine herself anywhere but here, even drowning in an ocean would be better than the punishment that was coming, because at least if she were to drown her pain would end. But with Voldemort, he would never release her from the torment.
"And what of her transgression against Bellatrix, how can we trust one that attacks their own?" chimed in another, quieter female voice, one that shook.
"There are some lessons, I do confess, Penelope has yet to learn. But I think we will find her an astute learner, will we not Severus?" he said, the air swirling around Penny as he knelt down and clicked his tongue, indicating he wanted her to open her eyes.
Penny obeyed, holding her breath when she found him there, much too close and much too amused.
"I-I wasn't thinking—" she stuttered, the fear getting the better of her.
"And tell them all why that was, Penelope."
"What?" she said, weakly.
"Tell your new family why you would act in a way so displeasurable to me."
"S-she killed him."
"Who?"
"S-Sirius."
"And all together now."
"She k-killed S-Sirius," Penny said, her back pressed so firmly against the chair behind her that she might have become part of it.
"Louder now, so they can hear you," Voldemort pressed.
"I hit her," —Penny started loudly but suddenly trailed off and looked down as fear bubbled to the surface, but Voldemort forced her back up to meet his gaze, his brow commanding her to continue— "B-because she killed Sirius."
"Oh, does baby Potter miss her little, useless godfather," Bellatrix mocked, breaking into a cackle, the others following with their snickers.
"Except, that's not the truth, is it, Penelope?"
"I-I don't understand, I saw her."
"It is not Bellatrix who is at fault. That pestering-need you call love is the cause of this, is the cause for the punishment that you will receive. I want you to remember that, Penelope. Love can only bring you pain, but those who are loyal to me, who do that which pleases me, they suffer none," Voldemort said, wiping a tear from her cheek with one of his deathly-white knuckles and examining it as though it was some peculiar bug he had never seen before
"P-please, I didn't mean it."
"Tut tut, you would dare lie to the Dark Lord?"
"It-it's not."
"Oh, but it is, Penelope. I can see it all in your mind. You wanted to cause her pain, to make her pay for what she took from you. Should I show you?"
Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his finger unkindly into the middle of her forehead, igniting that drilling sensation deep in her head. He faced little opposition, Penny was too tired and afraid to try to resist him, and even tried her best to allow him access, but still he forced his way in caring little for the pain he induced as he did so.
This time did not pull her in as far, remaining on the outskirts of her thoughts so she could still focus on his red eyes and see the memories he plucked from her flash by at the same time. In cruelty and malice, he replayed Sirius' last moments, again and again, forcing Penny to watch Sirius disappear through that veil until she could endure it no more and found herself crumpled onto the cold floor in a puddle of her own bile.
Turning bleary-eyed she looked up at him towering over her wand pointed at her as he whispered "crucio." Body contorting against her will, Penny choked on her sobs, unable to let out so much as a whimper because the pain crashing into her consumed all of her, except for the hatred that burrowed deep within her.
Penny had read that in order to cast an unforgivable curse the person had to mean, had to want to cause the other person harm, a distinction that resulted in the experience being different depending on the person casting it and their mood at that particular moment.
In his punishment, Penny could feel the purpose Voldemort imbued into the pain he forced upon her. It glorified in that dark place inside of her that harbored this hatred of hers and scorned those parts of her that tried to keep caged. The pain ripped at the seams of her consciousness, seeping into the crevices of her mind, threatening to take what was most precious from her. But before it could force its way through, the pain ended.
"Now, we have festivities to tend to. This day, after-all, has been arranged in your honor," Voldemort said before he turned and made his way toward the door. "Corban," he nodded as he passed, sending Yaxley toward Penny, that all-too-familiar look of gloating on his face as he knelt before Penny, dangling the cursed collar, which was now gold, in front of her face.
"Oh, doll, bad day? Wait until you see what I have planned for later," he grinned, bearing his yellow teeth at her. Then he clicked open the collar and reached for her, but a cold voice stopped him.
"Lay a hand on her, Yaxley, I dare her."
"Oh, Severus, surely even you cannot blame me from being sorely tempted to get a better look at this handiwork of yours. Marvelous placement," he said, malevolently, his blue eyes turning greedily to Penny's chest, sickening her. "Dutiful fiancé or not though, the Dark Lord has instructed that his pet be muzzled—"
"Then it is I, her fiancé who shall do it."
"I knew you would come to your senses and see the merits of putting the bitch in her place," Yaxley said, getting to his feet as Snape neered.
Without wasting so much as a look on Yaxley, Snape took the collar from him and knelt beside Penny, helping her into a sitting position after he cleared the mess with his wand.
"This is not exactly how I imagined kicking off my 16th year of life," Penny murmured, trying to make light of the horrendous situation.
Snape scowled at her, evidently unamused by her efforts. "Give me your wand, Potter," he commanded, as he pulled out that handkerchief of his and began to wipe the beads of cold sweat from her forehead.
"You really expect a girl to hand it over as you're about to put that on me? And in present circumstances?" she said, managing to find enough energy to muster a little indignation.
"For safe-keeping. You know full well, if not me, it will be Yaxley who takes it off you."
"Fine. All things considered, I'll save my numerous thoughts on the prospect of Yaxley trying to take my wand off me for later, and place myself entirely in your hands, finacé. So, please, whatever you do, just don't let Yaxley have his fucked up event his way," Penny said reaching into her bra and pulling out her wand and handing it to Snape.
His hands stopped their wiping and his dark eyes settled, brows furrowed, burrowing into her green ones. Placing the handkerchief into her hand, Snape reached up and brushed her hair out of her face, it could no longer reach her hair, so it tumbled back into his place but his hand lingered momentarily on her cheek before snapping the collar closed around her neck.
The sound was like nails on a chalkboard for Penny. It sent her nerves on edge and filled her with dread, but instead of letting it get the best of her, she leaned forward, hand clutching the front of his shirt and pressed her head against Snape's chest, allowing the smell of bergamot to coax her back into that safety his nearness always offered—a mere moment of reprieve.
"Come," he said, pulling her to her feet and leading her once again toward that man in monster's flesh.
Voldemort and his guests were already seated at a long table, the head of which sat Voldemort. To his left was a head of familiar blonde hair, Draco's. Eyes glancing up skittishly, Penny noted how pale he seemed, and that he'd lost considerable weight.
Their eyes only met for the briefest of moments before he looked away again, yanking his hand away in annoyance when his mother tried to offer a calming touch. Bruised and looking angry, Bellatrix sat beside Narcissa, her eyes watching their entrance with the utmost attentiveness.
"Severus, you may leave Penelope down there, I trust the Carrow brothers will ensure she remains entertained, and join me here," Voldemort said.
"Yes, my Lord, you honor me beyond words," Snape replied, inclining his head.
Reaching for the chair between Amycus and Alecto, Snape pulled it out, offering it to Penny, who felt very much like she would have preferred a seat beside Wormtail. Nose in the air, Penny allowed herself to be seated by Snape, watching mournfully as he abandoned her to the last two people she wanted to be forced to share breakfast with.
"We were just discussing you, Penny," Alecto said, his own blue eyes also following Snape's form.
"How pleasant," Penny said stiffly, not the least interested in facilitating a polite conversation.
"Amycus here was amused by your little display back there, but I thought it was quite vulgar, even for a brute such as yourself."
Penny couldn't help but snort with laughter at the irony of being called a brute by a Death Eater, but the finer points of this nuance seemed lost on Alecto, who reluctantly fixed her with a disapproving sneer.
"So sorry to offend your pureblood sensibilities, Alecto. But perhaps Bellatrix's face can attest to the merits of such brutishness, because Death Eater or not, we all one day find ourselves without a wand."
"You would know a thing or two about helplessness, wouldn't you, Penny," chimed Amycus, tapping her collar in malevolent amusement.
Penny turned to him, working hard to resist the urge to recoil, finding the challenge in his eyes. There was something in the way he looked at her that unsettled her, but she knew better than to betray that truth.
"Can't say a day doesn't go by that I don't reminisce about clobbering that git with a brick," Penny shrugged.
"You and he are similar that way. Loves to recount you in that chair, doesn't he?" Alecto replied with a smirk as he nodded toward Yaxley. "But even that sick fuck has nothing on Snape, does he?" he went on, eyes trailing to Penny's mark. "A true sadist," he breathed
"Honestly brother, it's only ten, must we listen to you fetishize him some more? It's really quite drab at this point. She's his type, not you, it's about time you accepted it," Amycus said impatiently, reaching for the marmalade.
"But why," Alecto said, seeming not to realize he shared that thought out loud as he scrutinized her, making Penny uncomfortable.
"Can you actually be that daft when her dress leaves so little to the imagination? Let me clue you in, it probably had something to do with that exceptional cleavage of hers," Amycus answered dryly, biting into his toast, eyes following Penny as she tried to busy herself with some porridge she had no appetite for in an effort to keep her cleavage to herself.
Unfortunately she made the mistake of glancing toward the opposite end of the table where Bellatrix was watching her from.
"Stop projecting, Amycus. We both know you have always preferred the more exaggerated feminine proportions. But Snape—"
"Spare us, Alecto and allow me to clarify. My only current interest lies in seeing that bitch, Lestrange, knocked off her throne. Or did you not notice that Penny here is only the second of her sex to be named among our ranks."
Alecto's mouth opened slightly in shock before he regained his composure when he realized Bellatrix was watching them with interest. Pressing in closer to Penny he said, "Dear brother, you should have mentioned sooner—I think I judged you too soon, Penny."
"I think I preferred it when you blatantly disliked me," Penny said, glancing uneasily at Alecto. "But whatever your family drama is, I want no part of it."
"Oh, but Penny, you already are part of it. Do you think Bellatrix will let either slight go?" Alecto tutted.
"Either, as in more than one?"
"She might have been satisfied with the Dark Lord humiliating you with his punishment like that if you'd only hit her. Killing your godfather and all, it was expected. But stealing the attention of the Dark Lord, that's something she will never forgive, and I imagine she's willing to endure the punishment is for killing the new pet in order to restore that position," Alecto said, using his spoon to steal some of the porridge Penny had not touched and slowly licking it off with those pretty lips of his, blue eyes alight. The gesture was decidedly gross in Penny's opinion, but considering who he'd sworn allegiance too, Penny was not at all surprised he was as excited as he was by the prospect of Bellatrix killing her.
"But if you were to help us, Penny, we might offer you some guarantees," Amycus whispered in her ear.
Looking from one twin to the other to Bellatrix, Penny felt trapped between a bear and a cougar, and both promised death, she was just uncertain which offered a quicker death. It was a predicament she did not want to be in, much less give her allegiance to because of. But they watched her, waiting for an answer, and caught off guard by their request and Bellatrix, Penny had no witty deflections ready.
But by the mercy of some higher power, attention turned to the front of the table where Voldemort was getting to his feet and someone said, "Show time!"
"Think on it,' Alecto said, pulling Penny from her chair and pushing her unceremoniously toward the door the others had exited through.
Shrugging off Alecto, Penny found herself on a patio, Voldemort leading the way into a large field that sat behind the Malfoy manor, but how far it stretched, Penny did not know, because a thick, dark mist covered the expanse.
As soon as Penny laid eyes on it, her feet stopped, every natural instinct within her telling her to turn, to flee, but she was pushed forward until she was just beside Voldemort, who gave her a cruel smile.
"What you are looking upon, Penelope is our future. Do you have any inclination what that mist is?"
"No, b-but it reminds me. . ." Penny trailed off.
"Manners, Penelope," Voldemort chided.
"Sorry—my Lord," Penny quickly corrected herself.
"Good girl, now go on."
"It reminds me of d-dementors."
"Your hunch is correct."
"How, where. . .?"
"The mist conceals them," Voldemort said, turning back to watch it. "After breeding, dementors excrete the mist to protect their eggs until suitable conditions arise to begin the hatching."
Mouth agape in horror, Penny tried to imagine a baby dementor, disgusted by the prospect of more dementors entering the world. But a soft chuckle pulled her from her own thoughts, Penny doing her best to conceal her repulsion from the red eyes that were watching her.
"What kind of conditions?" Penny said, suddenly feeling very uneasy about why they had moved outside. "If my Lord would share," Penny added quickly when she felt his irritation burn beside her.
"They require a significant energy source. In fact, because of the demand, a hatching has not occurred in a millenia. But you are about to change that."
"M-me?" Penny stuttered, taking a horror struck step away from Voldemort and colliding with a body behind her. Looking up, she found Yaxley's loathsome blue eyes grinning down at her.
"After all your time spent together in the Department of Mysteries, Corban believes your expression might just be the spark to ignite the flame."
"I-I don't know how to do that," Penny protested, trying to wiggle free as Yaxley dragged her forward, hand weaving through her hair for a better hold.
"You don't need to do anything, doll, just let that uncontrolled power inside of you free," he said, pulling Penny to the edge of the mist where he stopped, kicked her feet out from under her painfully and forced her onto her knees, chains springing from the ground and connecting to the bangles on each wrist and the back of her collar, securing her in place.
"Even if I had the slightest clue how to do that, you know I'd never do anything to help a beast like you," she spat, yanking at her chains.
"Oh love, you know it makes me hard when you insist on making things worse for yourself. But I'm happy to oblige. But, considering the present company, I needed to be sure you'd do as you're told, so I brought you a little incentive," Yaxley said, stepping before Penny and taking her face in his hand and forcing her to look to her left.
"Get off me, Rowle! The Dark Lord assured me—" Draco yelled, looking more terrified than Penny had ever seen him before as the big burly brute forced him onto his knees several meters from her, chaining him to the ground the same way she was.
Behind them, Penny could hear a woman wailing. "Not my son, please, not my son!"
And that was when petrifying fear began to ripple through Penny.
"Yaxley, what're you playing at. You can't— I can't I don't know—"
"You're a clever girl, work it out. But better do it quickly or they'll be nothing but a shell left of your friend," said Yaxley with a wink before bending down and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Gotta say, not sure what I'm looking forward to more, watching you writhing in agony or seeing the look on that slimy bastard's face when they break you." And with that, Yaxley turned and jogged out of view, the mist before them beginning to twirl, causing a thunderous roar as it did so.
"Penny, I know I don't tell you nearly often enough, but you are the most brilliant witch I know, so if you could just use that brain of yours now, I'll be forever in your debt. Fuck, I'll be your servant for the entire year if you want me to," yelled Draco, his eyes fixed on the cloud.
"Draco, I don't know what to do, tell me what to do," Penny yelled back, falling victim to her panic as a mass of black began to become more prominent through the parting of the sheet of grey.
"Why are you asking me! It's you that has the power! Get yourself together and use it already!"
"I don't know how, I've never done this before. Not to mention anytime I've used it before, someones gotten hurt!" Penny argued, feeling a little bit annoyed that Draco seemed to assume that the Dark Lord asking Penny to do something that hasn't happened for a millenia would be as straightforward as a summoning charm.
"I don't want your excuse, Penny. You just better get it right this time, or I swear to Merlin—" Draco said, stopping in his tracks when he finally looked at her and realized she was actually losing it. "Look, Penny, all those other people and those other experiences, they are irrelevant now. I know you, I believe in you, hell, I even trust you despite being a Potter."
"And if doing this hurts thousands of other people," Penny said through chattering teeth, the mist no longer obstructing their vision, giving them a perfect view of the dementors gliding straight toward them.
"Fuck those hypothetical people, I'm a real person!" Draco shrieked, the dementors ignoring Penny and apparently deciding Draco would be the appetizer.
Closing her eyes, Penny tried to find the happiest memory she could think of, as task that was easier in the room of requirement than in the face of hundreds of dementors. Her memories were quickly slipping from her grasp, but she managed to cling to one—that blessed, beautiful memory that had always kept her going, even in her darkest of moments, and concentrating hard on it, she called on her expression to produce a patronus, a brilliant orb of unformed light bursting to life before Draco.
"What the bloody hell do you call that?" he said in evident disapproval.
"Fuck!, it's still in transition! How is it my luck that it's still in transition" Penny yelled in frustration, but regardless of its form the patronus seemed to be enough to halt the dementor's progress.
"Naughty girl, Penny. That's not what I asked you to do," shouted Yaxley, and a moment later, a shock of electricity surged from the collar around her neck.
Screaming in pain, Penny hit the ground, the faint glow of her patronus flickering out, giving way to Draco's terrified screams. Spitting grass from her mouth, Penny forced her way onto her shaking hands and knees, trying to force herself to ignore the pain. It was at that moment, as the pain continued to pulse through her that Penny realized it had always been Yaxley's intention to sacrifice Draco; likely anticipating witnessing such horror would be enough to trigger the kind of magical reaction necessary to accomplish what Voldemort desired.
Draco was a pawn, something Yaxley could write off as Penny's own failing, something that would never haunt his memory. But to Penny, Draco was so much more, he was the person who sat beside her before anyone else would; the one who never shied away from her darkest moments. Draco Malfoy, despite his prejudices, mannerism and detached nature had gone out of his way to be her friend—a friendship Penny never realized she needed so much. Draco—he kept Penny together, and she could not let him die, but she did not know what to do.
In a convulsing mess of flesh, she watched helpless as the dementors slowed to a stop before Draco who laid in the fetal position, muttering to himself. Then a single dementor slid forward, reaching a slimy, rotten hand out toward Draco and finding his neck.
And as Draco was being raised, the dementor sliding its hood from its head, exposing that gaping hole, the one it would use to take Draco from her, like the veil did Sirius, Penny made a last plea, screaming into the ether of noise "Help me!"
Eyes closed like a coward because she could not watch another loved one leave her, Penny screamed for the second time. "I can't do it, I'm too weak," she sobbed, the pain of her utter despair suddenly more prominent than the electricity pumping through her from the collar.
It was in here, on the brink between herself and that pit before them that his voice woke her. Tones commanding, but calm, crystal clear through the thunder that roared around her.
"Only a Gryffindor would consider asking for help to be a sign of weakness" came Snape's derisive reply as he pulled her from the ground, hand immediately releasing her from the collar before wrapping his arm across her chest and holding her upright when her feet shook beneath her..