Song Suggestion: Paris Paloma- "The Fruits"

Read after Brand New World chapter 63 Sleight of Hand

Trigger Warning: attempted assault and torture.

A/N: There is one more chapter after this, and it will be posted after Brand New World is finished, because it will cover things that are in the last three chapters.

The Locket

"It's too much." Katie ran a hand over the jewels.

Just a day before, Marcus asked her if she wished to go to a pureblood formal with him. He wanted to go for Hermione's protection. Katie agreed, but reluctantly. She didn't really want to dance among the men responsible for her nightmares—the echoed screams stabbing her at random times—but he'd looked at her with such hope.

Marcus was so spartan in his living, only taking and doing the bare minimum, it shocked her to see the sparkling decadence before her.

"They were my mother's." He reached over and placed his hand against a vault, and it creaked open at contact, revealing another row of ruby necklaces and emerald rings, mother of pearl broaches, and diamond tiaras. "These are older," he explained. "Family heirlooms." She looked around in awe. They were in a room with a wall full of these vaults, each filled with treasures.

Katie objectively knew Marcus was wealthy. He lived in a castle with house elves and bought her a firebolt on a whim, so she assumed he had some jewels lying around somewhere, but she'd never seen wealth like this. It made her uncomfortable with the proximity. Katie had grown up lower middle class with a single mother. She had everything she needed, but they had to scrape by sometimes. It reminded her she really didn't belong here.

"Marcus," she said again. "I can't wear any of this."

"You can."

She shook her head, and he looked aggravated.

"Listen," he said. "This jewelry is doing nothing but rotting in a vault. The only value they hold for me is how pretty they'd look against your skin." He picked up a simple strand of diamonds. "Let me spoil you."

Her heart raced as the cold necklace wrapped around her throat.

"I don't have a dress."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a giant bag of galleons.

"Buy whatever you want."

Katie

Marcus danced in a methodical way, as if he knew the steps but hated them. His hands pressed against her hip, teasing her occasionally with a firmer grip. At the end, he tugged her closer, staring at her in the intense way he always did, as if he wanted to eat her.

Which he did, she supposed. Just that morning, she'd woken up to his mouth drifting lower. She'd never been with a man who liked to do that, but Marcus wanted to do it all the time and acted as if she tasted like cake. She was quickly getting addicted.

The dance ended, and Marcus looked over at Hermione to find her with Draco. Marcus hated him, but she assumed he preferred him to some of the random men she'd been dancing with because his shoulders lost their tense lines.

"I think I need to use the bathroom," Katie said.

"I'll bring you," he said.

"I'm not five, Marcus," she said. "I think I can find a bathroom on my own."

Marcus hesitated but gave a sharp nod, standing off to the side to wait for her.

She walked out the giant double doors and traveled down the hallway. Before she could reach her destination, a man stepped around the corner, grabbed her on her upper arm, covered her sudden scream with his hand, and dragged her into a room with yellow silk coverlets and crystal accents.

The man shoved her against a wall, and in the low light, Katie recognized Adrian Pucey looming over her. She instinctively reached for her wand, but it was strapped to her thigh—the only place she could keep it with the dress she wore.

"You look sinful," he said. "Red suits you."

"Let me go."

"I don't think I will." His eyes attached to her cleavage. She'd been excited for the dress—more daring than she usually picked. Marcus' expression when he'd first seen her made her love it even more. But right now, with the way his eyes perused her body, she wished she wore a garbage bag. "No Slytherins," he mocked her voice. "Except you've let Flint into your cunt easy enough." He stopped as if something occurred to him, eyes widening. "He was your Death Eater, wasn't he?" He gave a sharp laugh. "Did he lock you in his castle, tie you to a bed? Is that what you like…a little bit of force?"

"You're right," she seethed. "It wasn't about Slytherins. I just think you're repulsive. So you need to get off me, or else you won't like what Flint would do to you."

Pucey brushed that off.

"Why would he care? You're nothing but a mudblood whore."

Katie glowered as he leaned down. His lips crashed into her cheek as she twisted her face away, and he gave a snarl against her face, gripping her cheeks hard with his fingers. He forced her around and slammed their lips together.

Katie brought her knee up, hitting him right in a spot she knew hurt. Pucey gave a humph on contact. She pushed passed him, running to the door, but he grabbed the back of her hair. She tried not to cry, not wishing to give him the satisfaction, but a little sharp yell escaped.

"You little bitch!" He dragged her over to the bed and threw her down.

Maybe she would have been more subdued five years ago before the revel, but she'd seen true monsters. A little prick like Pucey didn't scare her compared to Fenrir. She fought, using all her athletic ability. Pucey was much thinner than Marcus, but he was still strong.

Katie managed to flip around and poked both her thumbs in his eyes, hard enough he stumbled back. And then she took the opportunity, grabbing the nearest vase, and slamming it across his face.

Katie didn't stick around to see the results. She ran to the door, opened it, and escaped outside, sprinting down the hallway. In the distance, she saw Marcus standing outside the bathroom. He'd ignored her wish to let her go by herself, but she didn't care anymore, so grateful to see him.

Marcus' eyes widened as she ran closer. She must look a mess, tears falling down her cheeks. When she reached him, she jumped, and he caught her, bringing her into a tight hug as she sobbed against his chest. His whole body tensed up. Marcus cradled both her cheeks gently, searching her face, eyes going up and down her body. His thumb brushed against the red marks that ached.

"Who did this to you?"

The hair on her arm stood up. This wasn't the Marcus who kissed his way across her body. This was the Death Eater—the one favored for killing. He spoke the words in a deep growl, as if the werewolf in him wanted to break through his humanity.

"Pucey."

A flash of rage went across his face, and then it wiped clean into something cold.

"Show me."

"Let's just go home," she said.

Marcus shook his head.

"Show me," he said again. A command. She understood he wasn't going to leave until she led him back to the room she ran from. Her body still wanted to flee, but Marcus made her feel safe. And once she felt safe, she felt a deep rage. No, she wouldn't run from monsters. Not anymore.

She walked with Marcus back to the guest room, just as Pucey exited. The side of his face was bleeding from where she struck him with the vase.

Marcus' Petrificus Totalus was as quick as a lightning flash, so fast she almost didn't see it until Pucey tensed up and fell over.

A couple walking by leaned over as if to help Pucey stand, but Marcus pointed his wand at them.

"Keep moving," he said. "This is none of your business." They must have recognized him, or at least must have seen how deadly his expression was, because they continued without even speaking.

Marcus leaned down over Pucey.

"You're going to wish for death soon." He stood up and levitated him, walking back into the room with the yellow silk coverlet.

Katie

Marcus flung Adrian into the room, not caring where he landed. He hit the wall just as Marcus took off the spell. Pucey scrambled to take his wand out of his pocket, and Marcus laughed.

"Don't bother." Pucey's wand hurtled away with a silent Expelliarmus. Marcus stalked forward, and Pucey shrunk back. "Not so brave when it's not a woman fighting you. I'll even make this fair." He flung his wand back at Katie, and she caught it. "No wands. No magic. Just man against man. How does that sound?"

Even in that scenario, Marcus outmatched Pucey in every way. Marcus shrugged off his outer coat and threw it to the side. And then he meticulously rolled up each white sleeve to his elbows. Pucey looked at the movements in alarm.

"I didn't know you'd get upset. She's just a mudblood whore you bought. Don't believe her. She wanted it."

Marcus clenched his fists.

"In what way did he touch you?" He asked Katie without turning around.

"He—" Katie choked on the word, just now realizing what almost happened. "He threw me on the bed and…"

Katie didn't finish. She didn't need to. Everyone in the room understood the context.

"You tried to rape her?" Pucey raised his hands, but it didn't stop Marcus from grabbing him around the neck and dragging him up the wall. "You tried to rape my girlfriend?"

Despite the horrid scenario, Katie's stomach leapt at his title for her. They'd never discussed what they were.

"It was a mistake, Flint. An honest mistake. I didn't know she was your girlfriend. She's a mudblood. I—" Marcus squeezed his neck, and Pucey gagged, face turning purple. The veins along Marcus' forearm popped out, every muscle stung tight.

"Don't kill him," Katie said. "Don't go to Azkaban over this."

Marcus' jaw clenched in agitation, but he slowly lowered Pucey to the ground and let up just a little. Pucey gasped in a breath, making wretched coughing sounds.

"My girlfriend's soft heart just saved your life. I'm sure you remember what I can do."

Pucey looked relieved, but Marcus didn't let him go.

"Instead of a painful death, I'm going to give you a long-lasting lesson on consent."

Marcus threw Pucey down and straddled him. Pucey tried to fight, but it was useless. He caged one of Adrian's hands under his knee. The other he brought up and grabbed the pinky finger.

"I think this is a good place to start." He bent the finger until it snapped, and Pucey howled in pain. It was an animalistic sound, raising the hair along her neck.

"Katie, love, spell the door for silence. Things are going to get… loud. If you don't want to see this, you can sit outside."

"No," Katie said. "I think I can handle it."

Marcus grabbed the next finger, just as she silenced the room.

"Where did this one touch? Her hair? Her face?" He bent the finger and snapped it. Pucey screamed for mercy over and over, tears streaking down his face.

"Mercy?" Marcus gave a sharp laugh. "You don't know me well if you think I've ever been merciful. In fact, I like your screams." He snapped another finger. "There's plenty of bones in the hand, and I'm going to break every single one. And then I'll heal you and do it again."

Pucey kept screaming for a long, long time.

Katie

They arrived back at the manor. Marcus had his hand attached to her back as he led her up the stairs to his room. When he got there, he sat in a chair, watching the fire in a pensive state while drinking firewhisky.

"I'm not sorry for it," he said. "Now you know what I'm capable of." He searched her face, as if looking for fear. "I'm capable of worse torture. I reduced the blood and gore for your sake. If I'd been alone, he wouldn't have exited alive. The authorities would have never even found his body."

He descended into silence. Marcus thought what he did disturbed her, but what really disturbed her was how much she enjoyed see Pucey hurt. It didn't bother her at all. Maybe they were both broken monsters.

She walked in front of him, the only sound the crackling of the fire, slipping one edge of her dress down and then the other.

"Katie," he said, voice gruff.

"Be quiet," she answered. The red dress pooled at her feet. Marcus' eyes stayed on her body, and he set down his crystal tumbler on the side table.

This felt natural, undressing herself, the eyes of her lover caressing her body. Soon she was naked before him, stripped of everything. She'd bare her soul if she could, so she could show him he didn't have any reason to worry.

Marcus didn't bother disguising his desire.

"I will never tire of seeing you," he said.

She crawled up on his lap, curling her legs on either side and giving a firm kiss. He returned it, hands catching fire on her skin as he softly stroked the sides of her thighs.

Wanting to see his control break, she unbuttoned his shirt, trailing kisses along his chest. He hardened under her; fingers tightened into her flesh.

Every nerve in her body hummed with the knowledge she was responsible for his pleasure. The buttons on his shirt popped under her fingers until it hung open. Katie kept her mouth to his skin, enjoying the taste and smell of him—powerful, masculine and all hers. Wanting to please him further, she slipped to her knees and tugged on the snaps of his trousers.

"Katie," he said again, dragging his fingers along her jaw. "You don't have to do this."

She grabbed his hands and placed them in her hair.

"I want to do this."

Normally, she wasn't big on blowjobs, but when she pulled out his cock, something primal flickered inside her. She gave a slow lick and placed her lips around the tip, keeping her eyes on him. He clenched his jaw, fingers unconsciously tightening along her scalp.

She started off slow, teasing, exploring, and then she brought him into her mouth, still using her tongue and hands. The sounds from him—the hiss between his teeth—made her body ache. He broke control a little, bucking into her mouth, dragging her head down on his cock.

The heat invaded her. His expression turned her on so much she reached down and touched herself, pushing her fingers inside in time to his thrusts, moaning around his cock.

He tugged gently back on her hair.

"I refuse to cum down your throat when I can cum in your pretty cunt."

He heaved her up until she sat on top of him, guiding her hips on top of his cock. They fit together perfectly.

"Merlin," Katie breathed.

"Do you want me to cum in you again?" He asked.

She leaned her head back, and he thrust hard into her.

"Answer me."

"Y—yes."

He brought her breast into her mouth, playing with the tip of her nipple. It was slower than normal, face to face, as they stared at each other. Marcus kept his eyes on her expressions until she shattered around him, riding him harder with her orgasm.

Soon after, he went inside her, like he promised, holding her hips tight to himself.

"You're mine," he said. "From now on, you're mine."

She didn't dispute it.

"I love you," she whispered.

Marcus tensed at that. He let go of her hips and took her off him. Walking to the fireplace, he held onto the mantle.

"Don't say that unless you mean it."

Katie sat on the chair he just exited, a little stunned at his change in mood.

"Don't mean it?" She asked, getting a little angry. "I just asked you to go inside me, and we both know I'm not using any protection. Why would I do that if I didn't love you?"

"You know I'd do a contraceptive charm if you asked. I understand some things are said in the moment and then regretted later."

"Do you—" Katie almost couldn't voice her fear. "Did you mean it?"

Marcus looked up at her, eyes looking haunted, roving of her naked body as if he wanted to begin again.

"The thought of getting you pregnant makes me want to fuck you again right now. If I let my baser thoughts rule me, I'd tie you to the bed until you were. Katie... I'd marry you tomorrow. How fast we go for anything is up to you." He gave a heaving sigh. "I understand this might not be as serious for you. So please, don't say things you don't mean."

Katie stood up and walked over to the bed. The sheets were soft under her fingers.

"I want everything too," she whispered. "Everything, Marcus. I'm not going anywhere, so let yourself be selfish for once and do exactly what you want to me."

He shuddered, looking at her, as if unable to believe she was real, and then he grinned like a predator.

"This will be a long night."

Katie

Later, she grabbed at the locket he always kept on the side table. It was beautifully constructed, shaped like a heart, with a diamond in the center.

"What's this?"

"A portkey."

"To where?"

"To this room," he answered. She settled against his chest, holding the beautiful locket in her hands, viewing it in the light. He ran his hand along her back in a soothing stroke. "My great grandfather made it, probably for his lover."

He reached over and grabbed it from her and opened it. A small picture of her face greeted her.

"It shows who you're thinking about," he said. "I used to stare at it for hours."

"How long has it held my picture?" she said.

"Since your fourth year," he said. "I saw you practicing on the quidditch pitch one day early in the year. You looked so free and happy, and I'd never seen anything more beautiful. We both enjoyed quidditch and competition, and I had the idea if you stopped hating me, maybe you'd see we had a lot in common. But you were just a dream to me. I never really thought I'd be able to call you mine, especially after I was forced to take the dark mark."

He traced his hand along her face, his expression open and honest. She felt like she could see though him, his thoughts so clear she was surprised she didn't see it before.

Goosebumps spread across her body, knowing this was an answer to her earlier question.

Marcus loved her too.