A/N: Thank you so much for the review zeeksmom! I honestly didn't even expect anyone to be reading this already, it was a pleasant surprise and I'm glad some people are tagging along for the ride with this story. I've been wanting to do a Lumione story for a long time but just never found the premise that felt right until now. Hope you're all having a wonderful end of your weekend~
Chapter Two / What You Sow
The velvety tremble of the voice was decidedly familiar, but she couldn't place a name to it.
"Well, this certainly feels like Hell. Shouldn't there be a balance in the universe?"
She bit back a chuckle at the end, exasperated to be stuck living like this and fear stricken to think she might sooner rather than later find out the real answer to the stranger's question.
"I know I'd never see it even if it is real, but I like to hope it is because it means these bastards will never see it either."
His voice was delicate and withdrawn and she wondered if he was injured. Of course, it would be more surprising to be in this place unscathed, even the captors would often reek of healing creams and have rancid blood stains on their clothes from their raids. Though, she was sure plenty of the stains were often not from their own bodies. As her eyes drifted across her own clothes her nostrils twinged, becoming again aware of the smell on her own skin. The few times she had bathed she was watched the entire time with their eyes raking over her as she cried and scrubbed as hard as she could with the hole riddled rag she was given. The scent of filth was better than the alternative but it still felt dehumanizing nonetheless.
"Have you been here the whole time? Have you…heard?"
Her voice strained on the last word, holding back tears she refused to shed.
"I didn't find it imperative to converse as it seemed you were already in a difficult position. I only broke my silence as I honestly feared I may lose my mind if I keep within my own thoughts any longer. I will return to my silence if you request so."
His vocabulary and tone of his voice denoted he was older in age, but she didn't mind as it was either him or the rats and she wasn't keen on engaging the little creatures again after the wine incident. In truth, she was starting to worry the same for her own sanity.
"No, that's okay. I suppose a little conversation wouldn't hurt to pass the time. It's so quiet over there. Do they not visit your chamber?"
She cringed for a moment thinking it may be an insensitive question but she was genuinely curious and she was nothing if not persistent when a question entered her thoughts.
"My chamber is already rigged with the instruments of torture to my body. The lower level cretins though I think fear me. Likely for the best, but it's more likely they fear that I may escape if given a window to do so. I'm sure they'll just leave me here to rot, but it does seem like a better prospect then how you fair over there from the sounds of it. Dolohov is a beast of a man, I'm not sure how anyone could birth such a foul inhuman thing. There's no civility in any of the dregs that come down to these dungeons."
She could tell he was aiming for a sentiment of pity with his latter half of his statement and it stung her pride as she expected but at least it was a welcomed way to commiserate her hatred for her torturer.
"When this all first started I worried about things that seemed so heavy, so soul crushing. I worried that I might have to take a life and how that would affect me. Everyone's always talked about my heart, how it breaks and bleeds over the smallest of things. I used to wake up some nights clammy and shaking just weighing how that would ruin me to do it. I suppose it was that same worry as you, that if there is a Heaven I'll never see it because of the sins I'd have to commit for the greater good."
The silence after her words felt overwhelming as he shuffled around once again, searching for the right words to speak.
"Did you have to find out the hard way?"
This time the brunt of silence bore down on her as she struggled to find if she should…if she could… admit it out loud.
"Yes."
One word never felt heavier and it hung in the cold damp air between them like a Sunday confession. Whispered deftly to the only other person who may ever hear her final sins before the end comes.
"Sometimes, we are asked to do things we never think we're capable of. I've committed many things I would never want to tell another soul. Circumstance places us into many places where we have no other option, it's an innate human folly. An annoying and unavoidable burden of fighting for the things you are raised to believe you should do. Have we not spent centuries fighting wars for causes that never seem to actually matter by the turn of the next one?"
He sounded worn down and weary with the reminder of all that he'd done. She knew her sins likely lacked in comparison, but it was a small solace to feel connected to someone else who could understand the pain and mental fraught that came with it all.
"What if you…start to enjoy the thought of the terrible things you shouldn't do?"
Biting hard on her lip she edged her way towards understanding the thoughts that had started to creep into her mind lately. She didn't mean to ever voice it, but something about this stranger and this moment seemed so private and intimate. At first she could assuage her pain with the thought that Dolohov would at least see the inside of a dementors kiss by the war's end, god willing. With the passing of each evening and each violation though it never seemed to be enough. It could no longer give her the comfort she needed to push forward and hold together through it. Some nights she'd find herself dreaming of returning the pain three fold on him, piercing him with his own blade and running him through until the light drained from his eyes. It scared the living hell out of her to know herself as someone she'd never been before this all.
"Can you live with it?"
It wasn't the answer she expected, and she didn't honestly know if she could.
"If I don't even live past it does it even matter?"
He chuckled just loud enough for her to hear through the brick wall dividing them. It wasn't a mocking laugh but the laugh of someone who'd thought the same before. A knowing shared experience where you can do nothing but laugh even though you know it's the wrong reaction.
"If Heaven is denied for ridding humanity of the likes of Dolohov then I don't want to see it."
This time they both laughed, a genuine laugh that the both had not felt in months. Her thoughts lingered on something he'd said that was bothering her immensely.
"What did you mean when you said what tortures you is already in your chamber? I'm sorry if that's a rude question, you don't have to answer."
She desperately hoped he would though.
"Silver dust. It lines the bricks within this lower level. It was baked into the foundation for this sect of the dungeons. Architecturally, it's brilliant. The ultimate way to keep your enemy in a constant state of degradation as their body breaks down immunity and strength when exposed to it for so long. At first, it burns and it makes your lungs itch and every fiber in your limbs feel like they're on fire. Eventually, you grow so weak that you can't even scratch at yourself anymore."
Silver?
"But why would silver hurt you? Are you allergic? That seems awfully specific unless you're a…"
"Vampire."
The shock hit her in a wave mixed with dread and scientific curiosity.
"You can't be serious? I thought they were only a legend, a myth even in the wizarding world. I mean we do have trolls and sirens, it's not that far of a stretch. But no one's ever really seen one that I've ever read about in texts outside of historical ones. How?"
Suddenly, her mind was churning with dozens of questions and she worried she may scare him off from ever talking to her again. With a deep mournful sigh he finally replied.
"An experiment. I was simply a lab rat for the dark lord in his quest to find an immortality that suited him better. A forsaken remnant of a failed idea. Apparently, the idea of having to have a constant life source to feast on wasn't ideal enough and, of course, the drawbacks of the few known weaknesses vampires naturally have. He wasn't very eager to have known shortcomings."
His tone was bitter and acidic at having to admit that he was frankly a victim of someone else's needs. Choosing to spare him any further antagonizing, she changed the questioning to a more general one.
"But these dungeons are so very old. Have vampires been known for so long by certain families?"
The bricks surrounding her were near crumbling in some spots from age and the ruddy color was likely to be more water damage and rust than original tint.
"Certain…families…did hold the creatures captive for research purposes. I have heard tales of some that did so out of necessity due to members becoming one of the undead and being unmanageable. It's uncouth to have a member known as such a being. I can only imagine my dearest departed father is rolling in his tomb if he knows beyond the pale what I have become."
He sounded almost satisfied at the thought of bringing such distress to his father.
"Do you-"
Her question was cut short by the clanging of the iron gates to their level slamming shut nearby. Her body tensed instinctively as she pushed her body flush against the wall behind her feeling the dewy stone pressing against her tepid skin. Panic began to roll through her body as she felt her breathing start to shorten and deepen. The footsteps began to grow closer but she knew he was taking his time, enunciating each footstep to provoke her.
"Just know that I am still here, even if I can't help physically, I will help you break him if we ever get out of here. I am owed my pound of flesh just the same as you."
The reassurance was muttered just loud enough for her ears and her ears only. A grim promise that gave her the only hope she'd known since the day she set foot in this desolate limbo.
"Pretty little thing…have you missed me? I've missed you greatly."
Closing her eyes tight she inched as close up to the wall as her body would allow, scraping her back raw. As the key jingled in the door she braced for whatever was to come and focused on the things surrounding her, the constant things she zoned out on except in these moments.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The ever faithful water dripping in the corners from the rainfall that soaked into the earth above the sounds of the rats and their tiny feet pattering through the gaps in the walls and across the floor above. Their teeny squeaks as they search and sniff out their next meal. Then the shuffling in the room beside her, her new consolation. She wondered if he was shuffling this time as a reminder to her. An almost silent reminder that she's no longer alone.
Camphor filled and seared her nostrils as he languidly filled the space around her. His most recent exploration must have ended in injury which meant her day was about to be worse than usual. It's hard to get worse than it already is, but she'd learned many times over the death eaters were nothing if not creative. His hands rough and scarred traced invisible lines over her back thumbing purposefully at the raw scratches from the bricks.
"Darling little love…do you want me to show you how much I've missed you?"
Pressing into the low hollow of her stomach she felt his dagger gingerly dragging along her skin. Breathing in slowly and holding her breath she prepared for what she knew would come next. Laughing brusquely he dug in with the tip of the blade and started slicing calculated lines up her torso, each one deeper than the last, begging for her to scream out in agony.
"Call out for me my love, scream and plead my name and maybe I'll treat you to something softer."
His breath was hot against her ear and she shuddered in disgust feeling him press his body against her to allow her to feel his pleasure at her pain. This time she wasn't sure if the tapping was from the water or if it was from the blood dripping down her legs and from the tips of her toes.
Unfortunately for him or maybe more for her, she wasn't going to give him what he wanted without a fight. Even if it was going to cost her soul at the end of the line.