Softness.

It was the first feeling she felt upon regaining her consciousness.

She was a she, right?

A quick body check approved her suspicions, and she sat up quickly.

Where was she?! Who was she?

Her mind began to run through a series of questions and her breathing increased. Placing a slim hand on her head, she gazed around the dim room, taking in every feature.
The bed was large enough for two people, and was wrapped in layers of thin sheets, most in a dark green.

Why did green remind her of snakes? How odd.

Moving her eyes around the room, she found a desk near a glass door. It was too dark still to see outside, but she could make out faint features of trees swaying calmly in a breeze.
Books made small towers on the deep-toned, wooden desk, creating little cities of knowledge along the surface.
There was a sudden crack, causing her to jump and her attention was brought to a dying fire, the last bits of uncharred wood begging to be set free. A pair of black, leather chairs were seated in front of the mantel, a small table between them.

She still had no idea where in the wide world she was. What was she? A wife? A daughter? A prisoner?

Panic set in once again, and she found tears of fear and frustration seeping down her cheeks.

"Oh, you're awake."

She flinched as the deep, rich male voice floated down to her, and her head whipped to a now open door. However, it was difficult to make out the figure, and she released a whimper, inching away as he stepped into the room and shut the door, "Who are you? Who am I? Where am I!?"
"Shh," he cooed, "You've lost your memory... Try to relax.

"
Relax? How could she relax?!

Timidly, she looked the man over, from head to toe. His hair was a deep brown, and slightly shaggy. A wild presence reigned over it. Pale skin stood out amongst his dark clothes, and a long sort of coat hung over his shoulders, a patch with some sort of snake on it.
The bed dipped as he sat down, and she moved away from his hand as he brought it up to her face, just managing to swipe a few tears away.

"Love," he chuckled, "It's alright."
"W-Who are you?" she whispered, frowning as he smiled, "And who am I?"
"You are Elodie Riddle," he explained, "My wife."

Riddle? Riddle didn't sound right. No alarms were going off in her head, except ones of mistrust.

"Please," he murmured, a hand resting on her leg, "You must trust me."
"And... And who are you?" she inquired once again, pulling her leg away from him. He sighed, "They have many names for me... I prefer Voldemort. Now, there is a lot I need to tell you, so do not ask anything else until I've finished, understood?"

There was a sense of impatience in his voice, with ran parallel with something else, something she couldn't make out.

"Yes," she replied slowly, her eyes locking on him as he removed something from his robe. A long... stick? With a swish, the room was lit up with countless candles.
"I know that," she stated, forgetting she had agreed to stay silent, "That... That's a wand! You're a wizard!"
"Good girl," he praised, his voice rolling in the back of his throat, "See... You can remember. You're a witch, and you've studied at a school. Do you know the name?"

A school? Yes, something was working in her mind. There was an image of a castle, surrounded by deep green forests, next to a dark lake.

"I can see a castle," she muttered, "I don't recall a name."
"Hogwarts," he said lightly, "We both attended it, and were in the same house, Slytherin."
"The animal is a snake, isn't it?" she added, "And the colour is green."
His smile turned slightly feral, "Excellent... Good girl. You see, this can be easy."
"And there were three other houses," she continued, images flooding into her mind, "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."
"Yes, yes," he laughed, making himself more comfortable on the bed, "What else do you remember?"
"The name Tom," she replied, frowning, "And the name Edward."
"Tom is, unfortunately, dead," Voldemort stated, exhaling slowly, "And Edward... You want nothing to do with Edward."
"Why?" she asked. Something told her Edward was wonderful. She quite liked the name.
"He was cruel to you in school," Voldemort explained, "He had an obsession with you."
"Really?" she murmured, her eyes widening, "How strange... Why would anyone be obsessed with me?"
"You're very beautiful," he stated formally, smirking slightly, "I can see why he wanted you so badly."

"Oh," she flushed, looking away, a small smile on her lips, "Oh, well... Thank you."
"No need to be shy," he laughed, "We're married, after all... I'm sure I can pay you compliments."

Married. Yes, a bell went off. She was married. Finally things were clicking in, but she still could not remember one little thing about anyone named Voldemort.

"What do I do for a living?" she inquired, "Do I work?"
"You never need to," he chuckled, his hand returning to her leg as he moved a little closer, "I take care of you."

She wanted to push him away, but if he was her husband, why should she?

"Oh," was all she could muster, "What do you do then?"
He grinned, "So many things... I'm a Lord, you know?"
"You are?" she asked in awe, "A Lord of what?"
"Of a revolution, my dearest," he answered, his eyes sparkling, "Of another side of this wizarding world, one that lives for the old standards. One that puts blood purity above all things. Those idiots at the Ministry have been trying to stop me for years... And there are Muggles, non-magic people, roaming freely everywhere. It's disgusting."

He seemed very into his speech, and when he was finished, she wasn't quite sure what to say. How would one reply to all that?

"Ah..." she forced out, "I see. And... And we don't like Muggles?"
"No, no we don't, we hate them," he confirmed, "My men make a special effort to see they are ... taken care of."
"Do you have a lot of followers?" she asked, suddenly becoming interested in what their life was like. None of this was working for her. Nothing went off in her head, like Edward and the Hogwarts houses. Something was just... off.

"We have many."
"We?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. A hand came to rest on hers and she released a small gasp. She hadn't noticed him getting so close. His spare hand reached up and moved some hair out of her face, "Elodie... Of course we. The men serve us both. Naturally I'm a higher rank then you are, but I suppose that goes without saying."

"O-Of course," she muttered, pulling her hand away from his and clearing her throat, "Is there a mirror here... I want to see what I look like."
"You don't recall anything?" he asked, sliding off the bed. Elodie shook her head, "I haven't the faintest idea, actually."
"Well, come have a look then," he insisted, drawing back a curtain which hung loosely over a floor length mirror. It took her a moment to remember how to move again, but within moments she was on her feet, standing in front of the mirror.
Her hair was in large ringlets, though a little sloppy (no doubt from sleeping) and long. Her eyes were somewhat brown, though oddly light. They clashed horribly with her hair.
Her hips were curved, and there was a hint of cleavage showing near the neck-line of her dress, which she did not like whatsoever.

All in all, she was pleased.

*-

Edward gazed at an empty conference room. There were papers scattered across the table, and used coffee mugs waiting for someone to throw away.

His Elodie was gone.

The entire department had spent nearly three hours dividing into search groups for her, while also going over any information he could give them from the night before.
He was blunt. All he could remember was Voldemort taking his wife, and the Death Eaters inflicting a lot of pain. Not exactly helpful when it came to the investigation.
The Minster offered a sincere apology, and had his best men out looking for her, but an apology would not bring Elodie back.
James was nearly as inconsolable as he was, and it was brutal to sit in silence at the breakfast table that morning.

It was hard to live with himself. He, the head of a team of aurors couldn't even protect his family. Now what? They couldn't locate the Dark Lord before this date, and while the teams were working so much harder for him now, there was still little hope they could find Elodie.

"Edward."

He looked up, his eyes landing on Gill Griss in the doorway. With a weak smile, he motioned for the man to have a seat. Gill frowned, "Sulking won't do much."
"I'm not sulking," Edward snapped, harsher then he meant to, "I just... miss her, that's all."
"Why aren't you on a search?" Gill inquired, finally sitting in the chair across the table from him. Edward sighed, "The Minister thought it would be best that I stay out of it... Since I will 'do more harm then good' apparently."
"Oh really?" Gill laughed, folding his hands in front of him, "He's a foolish man then, isn't he?"
"What good can I do?" Edward muttered, drawing random shapes on the top of the wood table with his fingers, "I'm too stressed to think clearly."
"You have me, don't you?" Gill stated, leaning back in his chair, "I'm willing to help."

Oh, what a laugh. He liked Gill, but there was no need for magical transportation to be involved.
Edward shot him a skeptical eye. Gill, however, remained dead serious, "I am going to help you... I have a Muggle friend who works in investigations, and I've learned a thing or two about it."

"Muggle investigations-"

"Are complex and effective," Gill said curtly, "Now... Do you want my help, or not?"

*-

Like a sponge, Tom, like a sponge.

Yes, she was like a sponge. She just soaked up all the information he had given her, and she believed it all!

It had taken him nearly four hours, but Voldemort had removed bits and pieces from her mind, while managing to keep in more important things; like the education she received at Hogwarts.
It would have been rather stupid to get rid of that.
She was different, however. More straight forward, and her voice was not as soft as it had been. Perhaps it was the same as before, who knows. Voldemort hadn't seen her, or heard her, in years.
Her physical appeal did not change, and he still found himself staring at certain areas of her body. Now he could leer however much he pleased, since she thought they were married and wouldn't object.

Hopefully.

Not that it would really matter.

He'd leer as much as he damn well pleased.

"So?" he whispered, stepping up behind her and snaking his arms around her stomach, "Do you agree with me?"
"On what?" she fired back, glancing down at his hands. Voldemort planted a faint kiss on her neck, "That you're very lovely."
"Oh."

Blushing bride, Tom, blushing bride.

Was she ever. Some things had stayed the same, it seemed.
"I suppose I look fine," she managed to say, tucking some hair behind her ears, "I don't really know who to compare myself to."
"You'll find mostly men dropping into our home," Voldemort chuckled truthfully, "Women are more refined, I suppose, and very few wish to join the ranks."
"Oh."

Her hands ran over his arms and they came to rest atop his own, "Something doesn't feel right."
Oh bloody Hell. Women always find something to pick at. He ground his teeth together and forced a smile, "Everything may seem new, for the time being. Soon, it will be back to normal, I promise."
His right hand pulled out from under hers, and his left held them together, causing her to struggle slightly. Voldemort pushed her chin toward him and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, enjoying how soft it felt. It had been a long time since he had had such intimate human contact.

Kiss her, Tom, kiss her.

He glared up at his forehead. He was going to, if someone would just be quiet!

With agonizing slowness he brought his lips closer to hers, but at the last moment, she turned away, giving her soft pink lips a lick.
He released an annoyed sigh, and was tempted to just wrench her head back to him and finish what he had started.

"I want to see the house," she informed him, "Could you give me a tour? Maybe something I see will bring back my memory."

Maybe it was too soon. But how long was he supposed to wait?! This was getting to be more frustrating then he had hoped. His original plan involved her swooning over him instantly, but that didn't seem to be working.
Gods, now he would have to just wing it, and hope she still liked him.
Of course she would like him.
He was Lord Voldemort, after all. The silly chit would be beyond idiotic if she didn't fall for him. Again.

He grinned, "Of course, dearest... Come."

He grabbed her hand, somewhat forcefully, and he caught a tinge of colour on her cheeks.
Oh my. So she still enjoyed him being forceful. Well, this just made everything better.