Suspected
Chapter Sixteen: Fetch
There was a breath of relief, something that finally unclenched as Rita crossed the Hogwarts Grounds toward the Forbidden Forest, stepping into its shadows. Rita gave Hogwarts a long look, considered her husband's pretense about the ramifications of searching for her master; yet the absolution for her absence was rewarding in her mind. The Dark Lord would teach her how to master the Dark Arts, never growing as powerful as He; but she'd be free to experience the satisfaction that came with practicing it—something that she couldn't find at Hogwarts as a teacher's aide, nor trying to convince a mass of young witches and wizards that it should be something to avoid. Rita craved the darkness: a cruel irony that she would try to convince herself and many others that despite the family she had lost while serving the Dark Lord, the power had become overwhelmingly compelling.
If she sought Him out, he would forgive her—hopefully—for her transgressions over the last decade, of avoiding a prison sentence in Azkaban, of teaching and consorting with Muggleborns and blood-traitors alike, for suppressing the purest form of black magic that history had seen. The one thing in her favor was that she had never denied her participation in his uprising, nor had she claimed to be under the Imperius Curse. He'd certainly find her visitations her lovely mistress in Azkaban as either amusing or a considerable weakness—Unless, of course, He knew about Bellatrix's ritual beforehand, which would make sense anyway.
And Bella…
Bella would see that Rita's worst self was her true self—Not a professor at Hogwarts, but a Dark Witch. That is what she wanted for her. If Rita was able to find the Dark Lord, and if he could rise to power, Rita would find a way to break her out of Azkaban. And then they could be together.
That's what you truly want, isn't it? Rita asked herself as she gazed at the glistening lights of the castle. She could love me back, and I could have both power and love. True love.
She loved Snape, of course; he cared for her, and she cared for him. But did he, truly, love the Dark Arts as much as he claimed? Rita didn't know. Sometimes, she thought he was holding something back from her; and he'd never tell her. After all, his true love had fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord, protecting Harry Potter.
Thinking of the students, Rita felt a pang of heartache. Forget Harry Potter. Forget Hermione Granger. Forget them all.
Except Draco. She could still care for Draco, couldn't she? She didn't have to cut out all her heartstrings at once. But practicing the Dark Arts for an extended period of time would rid her of things that a person human: friendship, empathy, love—
Fear. Weakness. Cowardice. The idea of being rid of the negative aspects of being able to feel sounded good too. Rita's temper—well-known outside and inside of the Dark Lord's Circle—was always provoked by the root of caring, and she'd lose control and isn't that how she ended up Dark in the first place. The Dark Lord had been amused by her magical prowess when she had first taken His Mark; he had bestowed praise toward Bellatrix for bringing her to Him. Surely…Surely he would not kill her.
He maintained that he wanted to keep as much pure blood in the Wizarding World as possible. Surely…he would spare her.
Surely, He would teach her, as he had personally taught her lovely mistress.
Mad-Eye Moody's suspicions of Rita's undetection had been right; Lupin's fear of her giving into the darkness had been well-earned. Draco's resentment toward Rita's Dark reputation and her denial of such power, Rita had felt that too. She didn't feel as if she tried to walk the straight path; and when she tried, it didn't feel honest. And as much as it pained her to think that she would eventually come face-to-face with Hermione and the rest of the school in a battle between Death Eaters and Muggle-lovers, Rita hoped that when that day came, she'd feel nothing…It would be less painful.
The whole world in the balance, and all Rita could think of was if she didn't do this, then she would surely regret that she hadn't.
Without another thought, Rita Disapparated.
A/N: This is the end of Suspected.
