9. Marked

Allisandra walked with an extra spring in her step. It had been five days since she had arrived at Slytherin Manor and Tom had done everything he possibly could to keep her away from Persephone, muttering profanities about her being a 'bad, insufferable influence.' She had let that one slide, but if he annoyed her again he'd discover that his wardrobe had turned pink overnight.

She had observed the two of them together, and she had to admit Tom was doing a good job. He'd sit next to Persephone at meals and casually brush against her, tease her with words until she was blushing and generally stayed in rooms with her until she had grown accustomed to his presence.

Of course, she still called him a bastard and sent him packing more times than not, but Allisandra considered these amusing bonuses. Besides, he needed someone else in his life that didn't add to his already massive ego.

Allisandra found herself between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, she wanted them together quickly so that the dark could have their Dark Lady; on the other, she found it hilarious when Persephone told Tom where he could stuff it.

Either way, Persephone would cave. She had seen it, after all, and she was never wrong.

She had known Persephone almost as well as she knew herself before she was even born. Persephone was very important, and Allisandra was one of the ones entrusted with her care.

No one would harm the girl she had come to see as her grandchild.

She stopped walking and cocked her head to the side as a vision suddenly rose in front of her eyes. She chuckled lowly and decided to remain in her room for the rest of the day.

The claiming started today.

…

Severus Snape stepped out of the flames into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor where Lucius waited to greet him.

"Severus," he said formally, nodding his head. "I thought term started today?"

"It does," Snape replied. "Incidentally, I do not have to be there until the opening feast and as such, have a few remaining hours of freedom from the brats." Lucius smirked.

"I'll never understand how you, of all people, became a teacher Severus," he said amusedly, leading Snape over to the lounge chairs surrounding a coffee table that they sat on either side on.

"It has its advantages," he replied as Lucius poured both of them two fingers width of single malt scotch and handed him his glass.

"Indeed," Lucius replied. "At least you have yourself surrounded with your potions. Perhaps you shall find the next prodigy."

Snape snorted in return. "I am surrounded by ineptness in general, with a few exceptions that are mediocre which is, with the current height of talent within that school, a compliment."

Lucius let out a low chuckle at his sons' godfathers' speech. "Surely there is some? I hear the Greengrass's are quite talented in their studies, or the young Nott heir, perhaps."

"Not enough for my full attention," remarked Severus snarkily and took a sip of his scotch, enjoying the way the alcohol burned the back of his throat as he smoothed it over his tongue.

Lucius let out a sigh. "Such a shame the Lestrange heiress doesn't attend, she shows remarkable aptitude in all her studies," he said, a small note of pride in his voice.

"Really?" said Snape archly, not believing a word. The Lestrange girl was Lucius's niece after all, and purebloods loved to lord their families over others.

Snape actually had never caught a glimpse of the Lestrange girl, Persephone if he remembered rightly. Besides, he doubted that Bellatrix would be caught dead with her daughter within the 'dirty half-blood spy's' presence. He had heard about her, of course. The Darkest of the houses buzzed on about her constantly. Snape, however, thought that all that glimmered was not gold and knew better than to get caught up in the hype that surrounded a person. Take Potter, for example. People fell over their feet to simply get him to glance at them in school and look at the prat he was. He wasn't even close to deserving Lily.

But still, he wondered if he should inform Dumbledore to keep an eye out for her.

No, he thought. A Lestrange was not going to join the light, and a simple teen was not going to be an important player in the war when there were contenders like Greyback and Dolohov in the game, even if she was Bellatrix's daughter. He had much more important things to deal with.

He sat back in his chair and tipped back his glass.

…

Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Ronald and Ginevra Weasley sat quietly on a train, all immersed in their thoughts as they had since both Hermione and Ron had returned from their prefect rounds with the exception of Luna who was reading the latest issue of the Quibbler upside down despite the scandalised looks Hermione was sending the girls way. These five had been friends for as long as they had entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Luna and Ginny had joined the trio during their uneventful second year and despite all their differences, they were great friends.

The most important thing they had in common at the moment, however, was the order. The Weasley's had been staying at Grimmauld Place, the old Black home that Sirius had gleefully had redone red and gold much to his mother's portrait consternation. Hermione and Neville had both come to stay there as well for part of the Summer to see them and Luna had been off back packing with her father while looking for a crumple horned snorclack but she had kept in touch with a constant flow of letters.

It was Hermione who broke the silence, her voice hesitant.

"Mrs. Potter looked so… sad," she said. Ron shrugged.

"She always does when term starts," he replied.

"But why?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I think," said Ginny, "it's because of her daughter."

"But she doesn't have a daughter," Hermione said confusedly, eyebrows furrowing.

"She did," said Neville. "Rose Potter, she disappeared when she was one. The dark mark was above the house. Everyone says she is dead but the Potter's, Black and Lupin all say she was just kidnapped, but it's still hard for them when certain dates that they should be with her come around, like today."

"That's awful!" cried Hermione and everyone nodded gravely.

"Deatheaters aren't known for their kindness, Hermione," said Ron with a hard glaze to his eyes.

"What I want to know," said Ginny, "is what this prophecy is that lot is on about."

Neville frowned as he looked out the window at the passing country side. He wanted to know about that too. They had listened to parts of the Order meetings that were held by its leaders using extendable ears that the Weasley twins Fredrick (known as Fred) and George had developed but Mrs. Weasley had caught them and it had become increasingly difficult to spy.

"Have you noticed," Hermione said lowly, "that the Order has been watching Neville more closely since they started talking about the prophecy?"

Neville sat back, stunned. Now that she mentioned it (and you could usually rely on Hermione for these types of things, she was uncommonly observant) they had. But why? Surely there was no prophecy about him? He wasn't absolutely horrid at magic but he was no prodigy either.

"Perhaps it applied to a hope that they had lost but still search for, and Neville was the second candidate," Luna supplied dreamily as everyone stared at her and blinked, before dismissing it. Neville sat back in his chair.

"I think," he said, "we need to look further into this."

He could tell by the sudden determination in everyone's eyes that they agreed.

These five students, however ranging brilliant they were in their own right, had no idea that somewhere else in England one of the prophecies they had discussed and resolved to discover had begun.

…

Tom glanced at Persephone out of the corner of his eye.

She was wearing a white cocktail length dress. It cut low on her chest with a sheer over layer stitched with floral patterns overtop that cut high on her neck like the rich ladies of older times used to and, he had saw when he entered the room, tiny white buttons that went all the way down the back. Her red hair was pinned with delicate flower tipped pins and her lips were accentuated with a touch of red.

She was restless, he could tell, aching for something to do. Up until now she had always had a project, something to work on, but now her day only consisted of reading something in the library she had already half demolished. Tom's eyebrows drew together in thought, trying to think of a suitable activity for someone like Persephone.

Unfortunately for him, Persephone had already made a large dent in most of the disciplines that the wizarding world had to offer, all of which she had learned at an astonishingly quick pace. It could simply be that her mental capabilities were 'beyond her age' because technically her soul was the same age as him.

Persephone didn't look her age; she seemed to be more around the eighteen mark. Tom attested her accelerated growth to the fact that she would be claimed soon and her body had to be a certain age.

Still, his mind said, getting back to the original line of thought. She was his and he wanted her safe, but at the same time he needed her to get used to certain situations. She would rule next to him wherever he went, she wouldn't be content to simply sit on a throne while he fought.

She was opposing him, still slightly scared of what he represented. But still, perhaps it was time to start the first step of claiming. She was ready.

Tom looked up at her fully, her head still buried in her book. "Persephone," he said, barely aware of how his voice caressed every syllable. "You have remained in this house for over a week without being in the care of one of your guardians and as an unaffiliated party, correct?"

"Yes," said Persephone simply, not looking up.

"Then you are required to swear your allegiance to the dark," Tom said and her head jerked up to stare at him, wide eyed.

"More importantly," he said, "you are required to swear your allegiance to me."

She blinked as she stared into the victory filled glacial blue eyes. Fear, excitement and pleasure curled in her belly.

"Alright," she said softly.

It would be months more before she realised these feeling weren't because she was swearing to the dark.

….

She followed his long elegant strides down the dark hallway, his black robes flaring out behind him as her bare feet padded softly against the ground. Riddle hadn't given her time to put her shoes back on which she had kicked off to curl up on the chair. Without heels which she had grown used to standing, running and even duelling in (her mother insisted on teaching her because apparently it was important to look stylish when you duel. Thank Morgana there were spells on all if her heels for extra balance, anti-breaking, extra speed and charms that prevented her from rolling an ankle) and that gave her a welcome added four inches to her unimpressive height. She felt small and vulnerable with Riddle without them. Everything about him was just so suave and dark. He was black fire dancing around her, constantly taunting and searing her skin before dancing away. She was scared; people who played with fire got burned.

And people she loved got hurt.

The only people she had allowed to stay close to her were her family. She had tried to push them away, and had to some degree succeeded, but they had still stayed with her even if they were more distant. They still doted on her, remembered the real her behind the mask. But still, her rules were clear, no one got close. There was nobody she felt strongly enough about for them to be able to surpass her barriers.

But he was getting close.

He threw her off balance, made her normally hidden or feigned emotions truly show on her face and talk without carefully weighing the outcome each word would have first.

She should hate him for it, but she couldn't. She was scared for him and for herself.

She wouldn't allow herself to name the emotion she was feeling though. Her mind wouldn't let her accept it yet.

Riddle opened a door and held it open for her to step through. As she passed him she breathed in the delicious smell of dark, sweet musk that was so uniquely him.

It was then she realised where she was. The room was long and made completely out of stone, the ceiling which usually depicted a painting was instead was a deep black of the night sky, slightly shimmering stars providing a muted light. A throne of obsidian stood proudly at the end, and a pool of green mist contained within the same stone was half way between it and the entrance.

Riddle strode through behind her and came to a stop in front of the pool, the green reflecting off his face. He held up a hand to her, and Persephone slowly began making her way over to him from where she had paused just past the doorway. His hand clasped around her left wrist, pulling her flush against his body and snaking his other arm around her back as he held her arms away from him so he could study the underside of her wrist. Persephone's breath caught. He flashed a smirk at her before studying her wrist some more, his eyebrows pulling together.

"No," he said eventually. "I think not." Persephone was confused. Had he changed his mind? But why trap her into this if he didn't even really want her to become a deatheater? Tom released her and began to pace, a contemplating look on his face.

Then he paused and turned to smirk at her.

"Take off your clothes," he said simply. Persephone stared.

"Excuse me?" she said. Riddle's eyebrows raised as his smirk widened.

"Don't you wish to receive your mark?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Persephone slowly.

"Then strip."

Persephone didn't see the correlation between stripping and receiving a mark on her arm, but maybe it was a tradition? If it was, it was a strange one. She had heard of people stripping at events like Beltane, she guessed, but to become a deatheater?

She drew in a deep breath and looked up at Riddle before raising her own manicured eyebrows.

"I have trouble undoing the buttons," she told him, hoping to get out of it.

"Well Miss Lestrange, I'll just have to help you." He advanced towards her. Persephone moved to step back but held her position. He ran his fingers over her shoulders as he circled around her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as his fingers began to gently work on the buttons. Persephone felt the cool air of the room hit her back and she shivered slightly. Riddle reached the very bottom and he eased his long fingered hands against her lower back, smoothing them until there was one securely on either side of her waist. It felt oddly like a power play, as if he was claiming hers as his. For just a second, purely a second, even though she was in one of the most vulnerable moments of her life, she felt safe.

His hands moved up her sides slowly and tantalizingly, rubbing slightly against her breasts that lacked a bra because the design of her dress hadn't made it necessary because of the boning and charms placed upon it. They slowly smoothed over her shoulders before shrugging the dress off.

Left in nothing but her white lace panties, chosen so that they wouldn't show under the dress, Persephone shivered but did not say a word. This was not Riddle she was dealing with, this was Lord Voldemort.

His arms encircled her from behind, pulling her against him. An arm left it place from around her to reach up and pull the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade around her and brush against halfway down her back. His arm moved lower again, sliding against her hip and pushing down her panties so she was naked to him. He leaned in and pulled the lobe of her ear between his teeth and she gasped softly. She heard him chuckle lowly before releasing her and striding to stand in front of the pool once more.

He drew his yew wand and held out his left hand, casting a silent cutting curse. Persephone bit her lip as his crimson blood dripped into the obsidian pit. The pool shone a bright eerie green as he dipped his wand in then drew it back out again. Green wisps clung to the end of his wand like a memory. His ice blue eyes looked up from his work to look into hers. Persephone walked until she stood in front of him, knowing instinctively what he wanted. He raised his wand and placed the cool tip against her collar bone before drawing it back slightly so it was about a centimetre from her skin.

Persephone watched in fascination as he drew a curving line in the air, arcing down, moving left and then right before coming to a stop at her right hip where he gently touched the wand to her skin again leaving a trail of glowing emerald green hanging in the air.

The trail hung, before drawing itself into her skin. She felt nothing for a little while and then she screamed with pain. She was on fire, white hot stabbing pain so hot it was cold. She wasn't aware of what was going on around her, she wasn't even aware of her own name only the Slytherin Green magic that had enfolded itself around her.

Then it stopped.

She was hanging limp in Tom's arms as his arm stroked up and down her back almost lovingly, whispering soothing words in her ear, her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He gently lowered her to the floor so she could catch her breath, his fingers trailing over her skin.

It was then she felt the oddest tingling sensation. She sat up quickly looked down and gasped. A black snake with a silver diamond pattern expanding down its' back from the head on her hip to the end of its tail on her collar bone started to slither across her skin, moving around her torso and working its way up to her shoulders before wrapping itself around the upper part of her left arm. It wasn't a snake though; it was a tattoo with unnaturally bright green emerald eyes. This was her mark. Persephone frowned. She knew the dark mark well; it was a snake protruding from a skull that was on the inner left forearm of all the deatheaters and this was most definitely not it. She looked up at her Lord, a question burning in her hazel eyes. He read the question correctly.

"You are not an average deatheater Persephone," he said softly. "You are so much more, and your mark reflects that."

Persephone frowned again. Surely for all that she was, she wasn't more valuable than a member of the inner circle?

Riddle reached out and brushed the hair out of her eyes, leaning in and kissing her. Ironically, considering she was naked, this wasn't like their other kisses where he showed his power over her. This was slow and sweet, taking his time as his lips moved gently against hers and his tongue reverently worshipped her as his hands cradled her face. He pulled back unhurriedly and gazed into her almond shaped eyes.

"You'll figure it out one day soon, Persephone," he whispered. "But until then, all you have to know is that you are mine." He stood up suddenly, towering above her. A smirk worked its way firmly onto his face as he finally appreciated the view of the beautiful being that was the other half of his soul.

"Welcome, officially, to the Dark side. "

…

And another chapter down. I am so sorry for not updating lately but work got in the way! Also a huge thanks to everyone who followed, reviewed and favourite.

Just for clarification, Voldemort never lost his body so the whole stone fiasco, the possession of Ginny and a prisoner escaping from Azkaban didn't happen though an alternative version of what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament did happen as you already know.

A dark scene about Persephone here. I like this because even though Tom has her at his complete mercy, he loves her enough to let her wait even though they don't say anything about it to each other, they understand completely.

The first prophecy still could apply to Neville like in the books, but everyone finds this extremely unlikely because he is not marked as an equal. They know Seph might still be alive (or Rose as they know her) but this is just a theory.

Also, brownie points to both bookaddict19 and Im Ity for pointing out that December the 21st is actually the Winter Solstice. I'm so sorry! It was an honest mistake. I live in Australia and I thought to myself "so their Summer solstice is when we have our Winter solstice" or something along those lines I can't really remember and now I am kicking myself for my stupidity. To avoid confusion it will now be referred to as THE solstice so I don't confuse myself. Problem solved. Or I can refer to it as the Winter Solstice now I know what it is since that is the logical thing to do. Yeah.

Also, check out the beginnings of my new Fanfiction Unspeakable Agents which is at the moment is going to be updated slowly since my main attention is on this. It's still in REALLY early stages but please check it out!

Anyway, XXX

Electra2Pandora