Now that I'm rereading this story, about three years after it was written, I've discovered I'm not that big of a fan. Ehh. But I figured I may as well upload all of it so it's completed!

Elodie sat on the edge of a large cliff, watching dismally as the waves slammed into the rocky siding below. Her eyes were dry from the constant staring, but she paid them no mind. A day had passed since she was told to torture Julian Nott, and she had kept her distance from Voldemort the entire time. He walked around the house, calling for her, but she managed to leave.
"Elodie?"

His voice was so distant, though it would have been clear had she been fully listening. His footsteps were muffled in her ears, and only when his hand landed on her shoulder did she finally zone back to their reality.
"Hey," he murmured, sitting down beside her on the rock, "What... What was that? Last night... Love, are you alright?"
"I saw something I've been repressing for years," she droned, her voice even, "And I didn't want to see it again."

He seemed almost annoyed that he had to come out to her, but she didn't care. Elodie nestled her head under his neck and shut her eyes, her chilly hands curled between him and her chest. He finally wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her in tightly, whispering, "What did you see?"
"I saw him," she murmured, "And what she did to him... Then remembered what he did to me."
"Who is he?" he asked softly, his voice barely heard over the dull roar of the water. With a sigh, she looked out, her eyes lined with a small tear, "My father... My real father."

"What did he do?" he pressed, not sounding very interested at all. It was as if he was asking because he had to. She glanced up to him and his eyes met hers. They didn't care, but she would tell him anyway, just to let him in a window to her world.
"My father used to touch me," she stated bluntly, "From when I was young, to when I was nearly six."
Her gaze turned away from him and back out to the water, watching the slowly falling sun cast magnificent colours along the ripples, "My mother found out. I wasn't sure how, but she did. I was always too frightened to tell her... My father didn't scare me, but I liked him, when he wasn't... you know."
"How does-"

"This have to do with Nott?" she finished for him, resting her hands now on his lap, "My mother took him out to the shed one afternoon, I watched from the window. He went inside, she took something out of her pocket... She burned the entire shed to the ground, him inside it. At first the door was locked, but once the flames were big enough, he managed to push through, and he crawled out, his body all black and burnt."
A few tears trickled down her cheek and she quickly brushed them away, "I shouldn't have been sad... I should have been happy he was finally gone, and we were going to leave that place, leave all those memories behind. I... I was upset for what she had done to him, almost as much as what he kept doing to me."
"Elodie," he cooed, wiping her tears away and holding her a little closer, "Relax..."
She finally realized how fast she had been speaking, and how quick her breathing was, "I've repressed it for so long... The entire ordeal. I never thought about until last night. I... Why did I see it?"
"Shh," he murmured, "You don't need to worry about it anymore, ok? I'll look after you. You need to trust me, and only me, from now on."
"I trust you," she whispered, "It's just... That body looked the same as Nott... And..."
He hushed her once again, and she finally felt like he was beginning to care, "Come... I'll make you something hot to drink."

"Thanks," she muttered, allowing him to help her stand up, both of her small hands clutching his large one. It seemed to please him that she clung to him, she noted as a smirk spread across his lips, his long fingers weaving in and around all ten of hers.
"What can I make you?" he purred when they were finally in the kitchen. Elodie settled herself onto a bar stool and watched with a slight smile tugging at her lips as he pulled the door to the liquor cabinet open, "Something to warm me up... I need to go to sleep."
"Already?" he inquired, pouting, "Think of how much fun we could have with this..."
"I didn't sleep at all last night, and I'm tired," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, "I'm sorry."
"Not yet you aren't," he muttered, pouring her a glass full of a brown liquid and setting it in front of her, "Not yet."

She shifted nervously in her seat and accepted the glass, drinking it with a mild caution.

*-

Edward and Hirman followed Gill through a crowded market along the somewhat busy streets of Canterbury, his hands buried in his pocket. It was much cooler down south by the water, but there was something in the air. Hope.
Hirman had scheduled the rest of the week off to help with this private investigation, much to Edward's pleasure. They had filled in their redheaded friend with everything they knew, and he suggested they merely start in the first place Greg had suggested, Canterbury.

"I have a contact here," Gill explained, moving swiftly for someone his age, "He's a young boy from Hogwarts... Wants to work in my department when he grows up. Nothing happens in this city without him seeing it first."
"How does a boy manage to do that?" Edward chuckled, "Some of our best aurors usually miss something."
"Then they ain't very good, are they?" came a sharp, rude little voice from his side. Edward jumped and looked down, taking in the sight of a twelve year old, dirty blonde boy, a round, large cap engulfing his head, and a traditional little brown suit covering his body. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and smiled, revealing a set of slightly yellow teeth, " 'Ello Gill... You're late."
"Very sorry," Gill chuckled, shaking hands very professionally with the boy, "They seemed a little awestruck about the city."
"Aw, most do," the boy laughed, "The names Nicolas Wimbly, and you must be the great Edward Potter, and Hirman Weasley."
"How...?"

Edward didn't think he was that famous that wizards around England knew who he was. Gill grinned, "I sent him a letter."
"Listen, I ain't got all day," Nicolas blurted, fixing his cap, "I got one day to spend away from ol' 'Ogwarts... They think I'm here for a family funeral."
"We need to know if you've heard anything of the Dark Lord," Gill said firmly, his voice not lowering at all. Nicolas shifted back and forth, rubbing his nose once or twice, "I 'ear loads of things... What do you want to know?"
"He's taken my wife," Edward explained, "And I want to find her."
"Be more specific, will ya?" Nicolas snapped, rolling his eyes, "Does 'e fancy 'er, or want to kill 'er?"
Edward closed his jaw tightly, then cleared his throat, "He likes her."
"Then 'e'll be in Dover," Nicolas stated, "I over'eard a bunch'a 'is servants talking at a pub a little while back. They said 'is main home is in Dover."
"Anywhere specific we can look?" Hirman asked, "Hillside? Coast? City?"
Nicolas rubbed his head, "I can't think of anywhere... They don't say much... They shut up the one who blurted Dover real good though. Real good."

*-

"Mmm... What was in this drink?" Elodie murmured, staring hard at the glass, "I feel so..."
"Relaxed?" Voldemort suggested, aiding her off the chair and wrapping his arm around her waist, "I figured you wanted to relax, love."
"Yes... Yes," she agreed, clutching the front of his shirt, "But I can barely stand."
"Your muscles are reacting to the wonderful drink I concocted," Voldemort stated, finally hoisting her up and resting her on his hip. She brought her lips to his neck, pressing feathery like kisses along his skin. He smiled and stopped for a moment, holding her up against the wall and ramming his lips up into hers, drawing a sultry moan from her throat.

Taking advantage, Tom, taking advantage.

Oh, do shut up. He made the bloody advantage for himself.
His hands worked under her dress, pressing a palm against the sensitive spot hidden beneath. She inhaled sharply and dug her fingers into his shoulders, causing him to wince, but he loved it. She shook slightly as he pressed harder, his lengthy fingers sliding under her knickers, feeling her sudden craving for him against his skin.

"Please," she whispered urgently in his ear, "Please..."
He grinned and slipped a finger inside her, causing her to arch out against the wall, her eyes widening as she bit down on her lip. Another joined the first finger and she tugged his lips swiftly into hers, their tongues sliding over each others in a matter of microseconds.
Perhaps he should give her that little drink more often. It could prove in his favour in the end of things.
She broke away and a confused look overtook her face, causing her to stop his exploring hand. His lip began to curl with annoyance, "What?!"
"The drink..." she muttered, pushing his hand out of her and fixing herself up, "Was there vodka in it?"
"Yes..." he replied, thinking of the key ingredient, "Yes, why?"
"Oh Gods," she gasped, grasping her stomach, "I'm allergic to vodka!"
The effect of the muscle relaxer seemed to have worn off, and she quickly pushed past him and hurried up the staircase. After a moment, he heard the bathroom door shut loudly, and he instantly rethought his whole drink-making process.

A potion next time, Tom, a potion next time.

Yes. He would just have to use a potion when he wanted to loosen her up.
"Evening, my lord," Adrian Malfoy said loudly, stepping in through his front door, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"I'm standing alone, aren't I?" Voldemort snapped irritably, "Silly bint is allergic to vodka..."
"All hopes for a drunken Elodie gone then?" Adrian joked, a smile on his face. Voldemort glared at him, but suddenly remembered the man was his most trusted advisor and follower, and he could stand to take joke every once and a while.

"How are things with our Lady?" Adrian asked, changing the subject slightly, "Going according to plan?"
"I need to shape her mind more, but she's coming along," Voldemort stated, clasping his hands behind his back, "But something rather odd happened..."

He proceeded to explain Elodie's abrupt departure from her tormenting Nott the previous night, and the memories she had shared with him that day.
Something about her memories angered him. He was upset that she was getting some sort of memory, but the very content of the memory disturbed him. A father touching his daughter; how disgusting.
"Perhaps the memory shifting you did in her mind triggered some things she didn't want triggered," Adrian guessed, "There may be other memories she'll suddenly remember... Who knows. I think we need to be careful at this point in time... Her mind is still very fragile."

True, Tom, true.

Yes, very true. Her mind needs to be babied for some time, yet nurtured with his own mind.
"I'm going to take her to a meeting soon," Voldemort informed him, "But because of that little episode, I think I'll wait."
Many of the meetings involved torturing people, and if she reacted so badly to Nott, it may be worse if it's a Muggle.
"I should check on her," Voldemort muttered, dismissing Adrian quickly and moving up the his bedroom, finding Elodie sitting on their bed, her head resting in her hands.
"You should sleep," he ordered, closing the curtains around the room, "Sleep usually helps."
"Didn't you know I was allergic to vodka?" she asked weakly, her face pale when she finally looked up, "We've been married since we were eighteen..."
"It slipped my mind," he lied, kneeling beside her and kissing her hands, "I just wanted to make you feel better."

Oh, it was sickening how loving he needed to sound, but she seemed to like it. She smiled, "Why are you so good to me?"
"We're married," he said firmly, holding up the hand that bore his ring, a part of his soul, "You're bound to me. I may as well look after you."
Her cheeks flushed and he rose on his knees, gently pressing his lips into hers. She moaned softly, fueling him on and he increased his speed, slowly rising to his feet. In return, she fell onto her back, propelling herself into the center of the bed with her feet as he slithered over her.

Easy girl, Tom, easy girl.

Yes, she was easy.
She managed to hook her heels around his legs and rolled him over, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and hips. A coy smile on his face, he placed his hands behind his head and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to make her move. Her slender fingers walked up his chest in a teasing manner, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes rolled into the back of his head contently when she brought her lips down to his bare chest, nipping, sucking and biting at him here and there, working her way down to his belt. Elodie looked up at him seductively, a girlish smile on her lips. He met her gaze and reached down, grasping her hands and setting them on his belt bucket, undoing it a little for her. She took the hint and removed his belt, then unbuttoned his pants, her hands brushing across the spot he wanted touched the most.

Finally, Tom, finally.


Yes, finally.
She stopped suddenly, rolled off, and hurried off the bed with a hand on her stomach, then barricaded herself in the bathroom.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and sat up, looking at his open pants and grumbled softly, pushing them off completely. He only slept in his boxer shorts anyway.
"Elodie?" he called, quite annoyed that she had not finished what she started, "Are you alright?"
"Go to bed, if you want," she shouted weakly, "I'll be out in a little while."
Bloody Hell.