AN: OMG! Thank you so much EME22 and Creamsodafloat for your reviews and the fav, they made my day! I would respond to you in a PM but since you are anon. I will respond here. Dolohov I super interesting I wish that JKR would write more about his back story and the other death eaters. As for his agenda he is a death eater and I am keeping this cannon as possible, he kidnaps her to torture and kill her, that is his agenda, but he may just change his mind. ;) I have in mind a few places for where Dolohov can have his own POV, but those won't be for a while. Who knows I may even give Crouch his own ;)
Also JKR wrote Harry Potter, I own nothing. No infringement intended. Although it would be so awesome if she did post on here. I assume that anybody that comes on here knows that she doesn't.
Also thank you so much to Christie for editing, while being uber sick, earlier today rather than grading assignments and making our Hamlet quiz for class. I know my fellow students will understand the priority of my story to our learning.
Chapter 2: Awake
It seemed as if I was looking out at the waves hitting the coast in a never- ending ebb and flow. The day seemed perfect. It wasn't like the semi-sunshine of the British Isles but more like the beating down heat of Galveston, where Mother had unexpectedly died. Cloudless skies were something of a rarity to me now. Stephania had found her in the morning, and we moved a year later, using the life insurance to relocate beyond the pitying stares of anyone we knew. My little brother, Raoul, always the joker, was the one who made us smile again. I seem to see him down at the beach with Stephania. As the surf came in, thought, I suddenly saw the group of hooded men that had been in the mall parking lot yesterday. I tried to scream to get the kids' attention but could make no sound. Then there was a flash of green light again. The clouds turned dark, with the ominous green skull and snake in the sky. I saw Stephania and Raoul fall. I am left standing there all alone. I see one of the men take off his hood and realize that it is the same man who was looking at me when I was captured by Antonin. He was the one who killed Stephania.
I woke with a start. A boot was nudging me in the side.
"Time to wake up" he said with no trace of that pleasant, slightly teasing guy with whom I had had coffee. I looked up to see Antonin. Seeing that I was awake he left the room. I looked around. I was on a couch in front of a large stone fireplace with intricate marble wood carvings from a much earlier era. The room was large and orderly. There was a large bed behind the couch with a glass coffee table a chair on either side of the table. The room could have been on Sean Woulfe's Design show as Bachelor Pad of the Year. Soon Antonin came back with a tray of sandwiches-cheese and pita bread-and an interesting cold soup with cucumbers. He sat down next to me on the couch.
"Sorry about last night. My friends ha-…" He stopped and then continued. . . "Dislike Muggles." He said catching his error.
"Oh… Where am I? Uh…What's a Muggle?" I asked. Why would he have me here? My family doesn't have a lot of money for a ransom. Is he going to sell me into some sort of slavery? I shuddered at the thought but dutifully picked up a slice of toast and began to nibble on it.
"You are here because I want you to be. You are at my flat, the exact location of which isn't of any concern to you. And "Muggle"—it means non-magic folk. I guess you know you are one if you have to ask," he said with a hint of a smile. But the smile did nothing to reassure me. He had to be crazy, kidnapping somebody and on top of that believing in magic, whatever that was in the 21st century.
Something made me protest: "There's no such thing as magic, that's only in fairy tales. It isn't real, it can't be."
"Yes dear Portia, there is," Antonin returned. He calmly took a stick out of his jacket and pointed it at the nearby table, carefully pronouncing "Duro!" And the table instantly turned into rock; it was now a rock-table. "See." I guessed that the stick was a wand and shrank back with a slight gasp.
There was no way this was real. There was no such thing as magic, my mother had made sure I knew that. She always condemned any book or movie that had anything to do with it. "Show me another," I countered to my captor.
Antonin gave me an odd look. He turned from me and back to the table.
"Finite." He said pointing his wand at the table, turning it back to wood. He then pointed his wand at me.
"Locomotor Portia!" He said. I felt myself rise up off of the couch and settle onto the floor. "Believe me now?"
Just then there was a loud noise as the fireplace went up in a green blaze. Two young men walked out of it and into the room. I recognized them from the mall; the big blonde one had been in the book store and the other one had killed Stephania in my dream. I cringed on my couch. What was next?
"Still don't believe in Magic, Portia?" Antonin said in response to my shocked expression.
"Ah, your pet is awake," said the blond man. If I am Antonin's "pet," I quickly calculated, maybe he won't hurt me if I can keep his interest somehow.
"Yes, she just woke up. Now I must be leaving as I have pressing matters to attend to. Portia, this is Crouch," nodding to the darker -haired of the two men. "He will watch over you." He gave a look to Crouch and then with a loud crack Antonin and the Blonde vanished.
I gaped at the empty air but was brought back out of my thoughts by Crouch's voice.
"Interesting thing, apparition. Quite useful," he said.
I was unnerved as Crouch sat down next to me. He was just as pale as Antonin. What was it about these guys? I wondered.
"I'm Barty, or, as he likes to call me Crouch," he said, motioning to where Antonin and the Blonde had disappeared.
"Um, Hi. What's apparition?" I asked, looking at him. He had a smile on his face in attempt to look friendly.
He laughed. "I guess you don't know too much about magic. Apparition is a mode of transport. So how old are you?"
"Seventeen." I went back to my soup and sandwich. At that he just chuckled.
"I guess you aren't much of a conversationalist," he noted with a smile.
"Um no, not when I'm being held captive and I have no clue if I am going to be hurt or killed." I said. After a pause I added. "Why don't we just skip beyond all of the false pleasantries and get to the important information. Why does Antonin want me here and what role do you have in all of this?" I queried.
"Well, I am just here to watch you, not hurt you-yet." He added to himself. "I am rather offended that you think I am false; I am not that bad—compared to some I might mention," he insinuated. Then without missing a beat he added, "You know you look a lot like one of my friends." He paused and looked at my face. "You have the same eyes." He looked as if he was going to go on, but I cut him off.
"Both my parents were only children. And I never knew my grandparents."
"Why not?" He asked as if it was normal conversation to delve deep into family matters.
"Do you always ask this many questions?" I asked exasperatedly. "My family just wasn't close with them. My mother hated her family, which was why she moved from France. "
"Hmm, well, would you like to go see where you are being kept?" he said, evading my questions. "Dolohov won't mind if you inspect your prison—his flat." But even though he dropped family matters I had a feeling that the grand inquisition wasn't over yet.
"Um, sure. Who's Dolohov?" I asked unsure of if he was referring to an actual person or not.
"Oh, I mean Antonin. Most people call him by his last name, Dolohov."
I got up from the couch and explored the room, nothing some bookcases and a dresser. I couldn't recognize any of the books on the shelves. Hogwarts: A History, Ancient ruins for squibs, Most Common Potions, The Dark Arts, and Magical Creatures, to name a few. Crouch indicated a door off to the left.
"This is your room here; it has a bath connecting to it and to the guest room, which is where I will be staying while Dolohov is away," he said almost gaily. This guy should be a docent instead of a prison guard, I was thinking. He would almost be likeable if he weren't so transparently fake.
How long would my coffee shop date be gone, I wondered in a panic. I didn't trust him but at least felt more of a connection to him than to this unreadable Crouch. He continued his role as tour guide: "Over here in the book case are some books even a Muggle like you may be interested in. I assume you have heard of Shakespeare. Looks like Antonin has the edition of Beetle the Bard you were looking at in the bookstore."
"No, never. I am only named after a character." I joked with him. "And how do you know what I was looking at in the bookstore? I was there alone." I looked at him, confused. Had he too been following me?
"Rowle told us. And how did you find Beetle the Bard? It is supposed to reveal itself only to witches and wizards." He inquired, looking at me as if I would give something way without knowing it. Maybe that was what they were after, information instead of money.
"Um, I don't know I just saw it and picked it up," I retorted. So what did he care if I picked up a book? This guy had more than one agenda. I wonder why Antonin had him watching me—to interrogate me about something?
He seemed contemptuous of my vague answer, and I had a feeling that he would bring the issue back up later. He didn't seem to be the type to just drop things.
The rest of the flat consisted of a large dining room with another fireplace and a huge dining table for entertaining. It also had a kitchen with a smaller table for nights alone. The flat also had a library—one that would have made Jay Gatsby jealous. I marveled at the stacks and stacks of leather-bound volumes and overstuffed chairs with convenient lamps. It looked inviting but we went on. The place was more extensive than you'd expect from a single man in London. Next to the guest bedroom was a cover patio type room that had, surprisingly, large swimming pool and stone tile floors. After I had duly admired this luxury, we returned to the Library and sat down on a couch in front of yet another fireplace.
"What type of books do you usually read?" Crouch asked casually.
"Does that really matter?" I countered. What did these men want? Were they part of some cult, some gang? Why was the place so fancy? Were they drug dealers or sex traffickers?
"Well sure, if I knew what you liked, I could pick some out for you, while you're staying here. I myself prefer to read anything that does not remind me of school. I also sometimes enjoy the good mystery." He paused and turned to me. "What part of France was your mother from?"
"I don't know. She never talked about it." Eager to change the subject I decided to ask him more about himself. Men often can be distracted by that, I had found. "Antonin showed me some magic, can you do magic too?" At my question Crouch's mood instantly changed. His clenched his jaw and in that instant the somewhat nice guy that I had been talking to changed. He started to pull out a stick-like thing from his jacket pocket.
"Of course I can." He spat out. "I am from one of the oldest pure-blood Wizarding families. Of course a filthy Muggle like you-"He raised the wand but was interrupted by a large crack in the next room.
"What exactly is going on here Crouch?" Antonin growled as he walked into the room. "I told you to watch over her, not insult her. Get out now!" I jumped up off of the couch hearing Antonin's anger towards his ostensible pal.
Barty slowly got up and walked out of the room. Then there was that same cracking noise. Silence. Antonin walked over to where I was standing, pulled out his wand and pointed it at me.
"Obliviate," he said simply.
AN: OK so I kinda had to giggle a bit while writing the part about sex slavery (not because that part is funny), but because Arben Bajraktaraj(Who played Dolohov in HP) has done two movies where he kidnaps girls for sex slavery. (Taken in 2008 and Sex Traffic in 2004) I must say he plays a lovely villain. Also the sandwiches and soup for their lunch are traditional Bulgarian food. The soup is Tarator, which from the Wikipedia picture it looks soooo good. Also Sean Woulfe is fake, I named him after two different people I know, but the show is supposed to be like the Nate Burkus show.
Hope ya'll like this chapter too! Reviews and Fav's make my day so if you want to review, go ahead! :)