Ava was happily humming a tune as she worked in the blistering heat. She was sure to get sunburn, but she was just happy to be out of that bedroom. Gardening was always her favorite chore. Right up there with cooking. It was a relaxing repetitive chore that didn't take much thought.
She pulled the weeds and put them in a bucket to throw away later, then she watered the flowers, once in a while putting mulch down to help them grow. She'd prune them, remove any unsightly ones, and keep everything pristine. Easy and time consuming.
Number 4 private drive was known to have the best garden in the neighborhood. Ava didn't even mind that her aunt got all of the credit. She was fine with just privately feeling pride in her accomplishment. It helped that both her and her aunt knew that without Ava, the garden would have never looked so good. It really got to her mother's sister that the scrawny 15-year old was just an all-around better housewife than her. Not that Ava wanted to be, but with doing all of the housework, both indoor and out, since she could walk kind of made it happen.
It was while she was weeding, without gloves since she wasn't good enough to wear any, that she felt a sharp prod at the connection between her and the Dark Lord. Ava paused in her motions, wondering what the hell he wanted. It had been three days since her boredom had initiated contact with her fated enemy and all had been quiet on his end since she had unceremoniously thrown him out of her head.
Now she had to decide if it was worth the risk in answering his "call" so to speak. She glanced around, looking for watchers. Her aunt was out at the store, her uncle wasn't due back from work for a couple of hours, and her cousin was out terrorizing some poor middle schooler. She knew she had a guard out there somewhere but they watched her surroundings more than they watched her. She was locked out of the house until her aunt got home, which she was assured wouldn't be until late tonight. She was having tea with her book club or something after the store.
Ava looked over the garden she was weeding. She was almost done, her slightly bloody hands gripping the last weed. She'd just have to water them next and she would be done. Then she would have nothing to do but sit in the hot sun until her aunt got home.
She decided that it was worth the risk.
Opening her side of the connection slightly she sent down a feeling of curiosity, not feeling like "voicing" her question as she worked to finish her chore, easily ignoring the stinging of her hands. You really weren't supposed to weed without gloves. Or garden in general.
"Does the order even train you, or do they expect your extraordinary amount of luck to save them all?" He sounded incredulous, obviously getting snippets of her day as she causally thought about it.
Ava actually snorted in amusement. He sounded slightly offended.
"I try to not even think about what goes through their heads. I assume that they think whatever miracle happened when I was 1 will happen again. Either that or they want me to die because even I can see that I don't stand a chance."
"Ava Potter, admitting to being weaker than her enemy?" Now he sounded amused and a spark of annoyance went through her.
"Less trained and being forcibly kept in the dark about a lot of things. NOT weaker." She yanked the last weed up a bit too hard, deepening a once shallow cut on her palm.
Cursing, she threw the offending plant into the bucket and looked at her hand that was now dripping blood. Shallow scratches and thin cuts littered her fingers and palm, but the one in the very center was a bit wider and deeper than the others, obviously being the injury she had just given herself.
With a grumble, she made her way to the watering hose and washed it off, hoping that it wouldn't get infected before she could properly bandage it.
"Gardening without gloves is idiotic Potter." She could feel his amusement growing.
"Bastard. Is there a reason you're bothering me? I'm not an expert but I don't think you're supposed to be casually chatting with an enemy."
"You're the one that started it, poking at our link because you were bored. Have you no sense girl?"
"I was bored." She knew her reply would sound petulant, but it was kind of hard monitoring her replies when they were happening in her head.
"And I'm bored now. Entertain me Potter." His imperious command made her grit her teeth in anger.
"Go torture your minions! That's what they are there for. I am NOT one of your lackeys." She was starting to regret letting her boredom win.
Still grumbling insulting things about a certain snake-human hybrid, Ava went about watering the flowerbeds. She smirked when the insulted and irritated feeling flowed back to her.
"I do not look like my mother 'got it on' with a snake, Potter!" Even in the mind she could hear the snarl he let loose.
Ava smirked. Irritating the Dark Lord might just become an interesting past time for her. He wanted her dead anyway, why not give him an actual reason. She must have a death wish.
"So, the whole hairless, no nose, Scaly skin was from your father then?"
Her scar prickled uncomfortably as his irritation grew. It just made her smirk widen.
"I'll have you know that that was Wormtail's fault. It has since been corrected." It sounded like Pettigrew was in trouble.
"Of course, it was. It's Wormtail. You're lucky to have come out of that ritual at all with him preforming it. Please tell me you punished him for it? Made him scream? Bleed? Weep for his mummy?" She usually kept the darker parts of her thoughts to herself. The golden girl shouldn't enjoy the pain of others after all, even that of her enemy. But Pettigrew was a special case and it was hard filtering her thoughts while speaking in her mind. Besides, it was the Dark Lord. Who would believe him if he told someone that the girl-who-lived fantasized about torturing someone?
"You fantasize about torturing people, Potter?" He obviously caught her thought and ignored the part about no one believing him. It was true after all.
"Just Pettigrew. And maybe Rita Skeeter. Sometimes Fudge. Dumbledore squeezes his way in there once in a while."
A laugh echoed in her head and she couldn't help but grin as well. It wasn't his usual evil cackle, nor was he laughing at her. Her response had genuinely amused him. That had to be a first.
"I don't know Skeeter well, nor do I read her drivel, but the others I wouldn't deny the chance to have at my mercy. You could say that torturing Pettigrew is a past-time of mine. It's a good stress reliever."
Ava snickered as she finished watering the flowers and moved to sit down under the shade of a tree. She casually tore off a part of her ratty, hand-me down shirt and wrapped it around her still sluggishly bleeding hand.
"You should probably tend to that properly, girl."
"I will when I'm allowed inside. Most likely later tonight." Ava shrugged and leaned back against the tree.
"Why do you fight for the muggles, Potter? They don't seem to treat you well."
The Girl-Who-Lived raised an eyebrow at the question. He was obviously digging for information, but she couldn't really figure out his angle.
"Well, Tom, I don't see how that's any of your business."
"Do not call me by that accursed name girl!" Ava flinched as his shout echoed in her head.
Jeez, someone has daddy issues. She meant to think that part to herself, really, she did. It was just a stray thought that she couldn't control. The absolute rage that seared through her mind proved that her efforts were futile. Now it was her turn to get a headache as the Dark Lord slammed the connection closed. Her head actually jerked back from the force.
With a groan of pain, Ava gripped her head tightly with both hands as it felt like it was splitting apart. She felt a warm wetness start sliding down her face as she fell into her side, still clutching at her skull. She completely ignored that blood that was now streaming from her cursed scar and shut her eyes tightly against the pain.
Her scar had never hurt this bad before. She couldn't decide if it was because she willing had the connection open and they were conversing, or if she had unintentionally made him angrier than he's ever been. She would guess that it was a bit of both.
She shouldn't care that she made him angry. She really shouldn't. He was her enemy and was always trying to kill her. He was a crazy psychopath with a hair-trigger temper and murdered her parents.
So why did she feel the foolish need to apologize?
The Dark Lord
Lord Voldemort was bored. Excruciatingly so. Most of his more entertaining minions were off doing jobs for him, even the rat Wormtai was out on a mission so he couldn't entertain himself by torturing the sniveling coward.
His new project was slow going and he didn't really want to bring any of his Death Eaters in on it since this needed a more delicate touch than most were capable of. He also didn't want to draw attention from Dumbledore with this. Learning more about Ava Potter.
Ever since she had first poked at their connection he had been intrigued by the girl. The fact that she could be potentially being abused by her relatives was interesting. Everyone was under the impression that the Girl-Who-Lived was spoiled rotten by her family. An impression that Dumbledore started. Which begs the question, does he know how's she actually treated, or was he just blind?
The fact that he started those rumors pointed to the fact that he knew and was deliberately giving everyone a false impression of the girl. But why? What was the point of that?
The boredom, mixed with these questions, made him come to the decision to prod at the connection and see if she would be curious enough to answer.
The curiosity he felt from her end put a smirk on his face. Though the seemingly endless number of chores that the girl was thinking about was irritating. They really didn't train her. How insulting.
The girl was irritating. He knew she was doing it on purpose, so he decided to join the fun. Her annoyance was delicious. Though if she alluded to his mother having relations with a snake one more time, he would not be responsible for his actions.
The Dark Lord actually laughed out loud in genuine humor at the fact the Light savior fantasized about torturing people, especially Dumbledore. The images that flashed through her mind, that he was sure she didn't truly notice, were very interesting. She had a good imagination for torture. He might even use some of her ideas himself. He especially liked the one where she had Dumbledore tied up and she kept shoving his stupid lemon drops down his throat until he choked and then she wrapped his beard around his neck and pulled. Oh, that image was glorious, made even better that it was herself, Dumbledore's own weapon, that was doing it.
Why the hell was this girl on the Light side?
It became even more obvious that her relatives were horrible people when she revealed that she wasn't allowed back inside the house until her aunt came back. It was hot outside and she had very little shade and no water. She'd be lucky if that cut on her hand didn't get infected.
It was also the fact that the girl wasn't bothered by this that really showed how she lived. She acted like this was a common occurrence and the casual way that she ripped her own horrid shirt to bandage the wound spoke of past experience.
When he asked why she was fighting for muggle rights when she was treated so horribly by them he was genuinely curious, but he also wanted to know if it was possible to convert her to his side. Training or no, the chit was awfully difficult to kill.
It wasn't like the Dark side wanted to kill off all of the muggles either, though he was sure some of his followers wanted nothing more than to do that. No, he was all for complete separation. With the way things were going it wouldn't be long before they were outed to the world. It would be the witch hunts all over again, only this time the muggles were advanced enough in their weaponry to actually pose a threat.
The use of his true given name sent a surge of anger through him. No one but Dumbledore used that name anymore and the fact that she was acting like him angered him more than he though it should have. She was his enemy still, it shouldn't have surprised him.
The next thought that drifted through the brat's head made his temper explode in a way that hasn't happened since he regained his sanity. In the very back of his mind he knew the girl didn't mean for him to hear that, or even to purposefully think it. It's not possible to control random thoughts.
But that was way deep in the back of his head and went completely ignored in his rage. He slammed the connection closed so hard that it made his own head throb.
The nerve of that child!
It would take him destroying his training room, torturing Wormtail, and many glasses of fire whiskey before he calmed down.
The echo of pain that he could feel from the link, that was still going strong even hours later, did in no way make him feel bad. He wasn't sorry at all. The annoying chit deserved it for such disrespect. No one spoke to the Dark Lord in such a way, even by accident. He refused to feel an ounce of pity for the witch.
So why did he feel the foolish need to apologize?