10. Deatheaters
Three figures wearing identical black hooded cloaks walked down a stone cobbled street. It was dark from the shadows cast from the tall buildings in the setting sun. The tallest of the figures opened a door with the accompanying chime of the bell and ushered the other two inside.
The store was old with a slight sheen of dust coating the various bizarre objects that were contained on the mismatched shelves and placed in precarious piles that reached all the way up to the ceiling. The store owner, a man who seemed to be in his early thirties with dark blonde hair and brown eyes, glanced up to take them in.
He didn't seem put off with the mysterious figures, in fact he seemed used to having strange customers and more usually than not, ones that appeared to be on the wrong side of the law. The middle figure approached the desk while the other two fanned out to browse the wares. He briefly glimpsed a feminine hand complete with a diamond ring trailing over the rim of a silver goblet before it was pulled back within the confines of the cloak. The tallest figure that had approached him cleared their throat to gain his attention, and the storekeeper raised his eyebrows as he glanced back to him, waiting for him to speak
The figure flipped back the cowl of his hood to reveal an aristocratic face with a strong, block jaw and thin lips. The man's pale blue eyes stared evenly at the storekeeper, assessing him. After all, Rudolphus Lestrange was nothing if not careful.
"We heard you're a man with connections," he said in his deep voice. The storekeeper raised his eyebrows.
"Who is asking?" he queried.
"People who find you a valuable asset," said the one on the right side of the room, a male from hid voice.
"Of course, our group would be more of an asset to you than the other way around," the first man told him stoically.
"I take it," he said carefully, "that this group is larger than the three of you." A derisive snort was heard from the left side of the room.
"Quite," said the female.
"You are quite a hard man to find, Owain Selwyn," the first figure said.
"It's nearly simply unheard of, an English wizard being so set up so well this far away from home," the other male put in.
The female pulled out her wand and waved it sharply causing the sign on the door to turn to 'close' and the curtains pulled shut, momentarily shrouding the room into darkness before the candles strewn across the room caught alight. The other two figures finally lowered their hoods. The other male look much like the first, but this one was shorter and his features weren't quite as strong and his eyes were a shade darker. The woman had black curly hair securely pinned to her head that contrasted pleasantly with her pale skin. She had dark, heavily lidded eyes and high cheekbones and was very pretty in a sensual way.
Selwyn frowned and the smaller man's smirk widened. He casually brought up his left sleeve, briefly revealing the tail of a black snake tattooed on his arm before releasing it and Selwyn's eyes widened in excitement.
"Your deatheaters," he breathed. "You want me to join?"
"Yes," said the taller man. "But we need your help in tracking down two others who will prove useful to us."
"And their names are?" asked Selwyn.
"Elric Travers and Nathaniel Krustoffski," he replied. Selwyn let out a low whistle.
"Two hard people to track down," he said.
"Can you do it?" snapped the female and Selwyn nodded.
"Yes, but it will take time and even then, they aren't the type of people you just walk up to on the street."
"That's our job," said the man on the right side of the shop. "You just worry about finding them."
"If you can," sneered the woman.
Owain Selwyn just smiled.
…
Lily and James Potter kept each other locked in a tight embrace.
"You need to rest Lily," admonished James lightly. Lily drew a shuddering breath.
"I can't," she said. "Now we know that there could be a clue to where she is, proof that she is alive. I need to find her James. I need her so much it hurts."
"I know," he said. "I feel the same way too. But we need to take care of ourselves as well, baby. I'm sure Rose won't thank us for finding her only to see the worn out husks of our former selves. If a deatheater were to cross you the way you are at the moment honey, they could make you topple over from breathing too hard."
Lily let out a small giggle. James drew back to look into her face; at her high cheekbones, beautiful creamy complexion, petite nose, almond shaped emerald eyes framed by thick long lashes. He brushed an errant flame red curl out of her face and smiled at her.
"I love you and your tenacity, your sweetness, your stubbornness and your dedication but you are not immortal. Get some rest Lily, the search will still be there tomorrow."
"Alright," Lily replied. "You're right. I'll get some sleep."
James smiled softly at her and gently began leading her up the stairs with her leaning against him.
"I did find something," Lily told him tiredly.
"What did you find?" he asked as he pushed open their bedroom door.
"The prophecy, the first one, was recorded to be broken but a month later it is documented to be in perfect condition." Lily yawned and climbed into the bed under the sheets, snuggling her cheek into the soft pillow. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said, half asleep already.
"Yeah, nothing," echoed James but the faintest feeling of suspicion rose up within him.
Perhaps, he thought, just perhaps he had found a lead to his daughter.
….
Persephone sipped her cup of tea quietly, glancing at Riddle out of the corner of her eye. He had finished his breakfast and was reading the newspaper carefully.
He looked so normal now, almost domestic at the large dining table only occupied by them. Persephone wondered once again why she was still permitted here as she was. Draco was the child of a member of the inner circle to and Riddle wasn't paying much attention to him.
She bit the inside of her lip, taking in his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips as he read something that didn't quite please him that would change instantly to a light of vicious amusement lit behind ice blue eyes and a smirk when his eyes flicked to the next article.
He had been around her so much these last few weeks, simply in her presence while saying hardly a word that she had begun to know all his little mannerisms. When eating, he would always leave his meat to last, he refused to look up before finishing his page when reading, and he never strayed from the colours of green, black, grey and navy blue. His eyebrows twitched when he was irritated, one side of his mouth pulled up slightly more than the other when he truly smiled and he scratched his forehead when he was deep in thought.
Riddle snapped the paper closed, ending Persephone's thought as his eyes bored into hers.
"We have an outing today," he said, taking a sip of his own tea. Persephone blinked.
"An outing?" she asked. He smirked.
"I could call it a social gathering planned especially for a murder if you prefer," he said amusedly.
"Oh," she replied. "No, outing works just fine. The other is a bit of a mouthful, is it not?"
"Indeed," he said, standing. "Come," he said as he strode out the room. Persephone stood and walked quickly after him.
"I spend half of my life following him through hallways," muttered Persephone. "Where are we going, anyway?" she said louder so he could hear.
"Your room, at the moment," he called over his shoulder and Persephone looked bewildered.
"Why?" she asked as he reached the door, pulled it open and ushered her inside before swinging it shut with a resounding, and very final to Persephone's ear, thud. He strode through the doorway to her walk in closet and Persephone followed in bemusement.
Riddle sent her a smirk. "You need to be dressed just right to kill someone."
Persephone felt a flutter in her stomach. She had been raised in the old ways believing the purebloods were superior, half-bloods pure half if they had a pureblood parent could override the tainted half occasionally and on a very rare nearly unheard of occasion a mudblood could be instead born as what was referred to as a 'first generation', but one of those hadn't been seen for decades.
Even with the way she was raised and her new allegiance to the man in front of her, Persephone was still what was considered a neutral. She had her whole 'holier than thou' persona pat down and even believed it to a certain extent, but she believed that people should be given a chance to prove that they were superior, too.
She chewed the inside of her lip while Riddle examined her outfits critically; searching for what suited his needs. He finally pulled out a sleeveless navy blue lace knee length dress that flared out at the waist where it was lined with a plain black ribbon and a black hooded cloak that extended all the way to the floor.
"A dress?" said Persephone. "You want me to wear a dress?"
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Are you permitted to wear anything else?"
Persephone's lips thinned. As one of the unspoken pureblood rules, the only times a woman was allowed to wear pants was when they were riding a horse or a broomstick. "No," she grumbled. He smiled, one of the real ones with the right side of his mouth pulling higher.
"Put them on," he said, laying them on the ottoman in the centre of the room. Persephone hesitated. "I've seen you naked before, you know," Riddle told her, drifting over to the shelves that contained shoes. Persephone very slowly began to take off the dress she was currently wearing, a simple grey cotton number, and pulled it over her head exposing her black strapless bra and panties and unzipping the back of the navy dress so she could slip it on. She held it out and stepped inside of it, pulling it up and slipping her arms through the sleeves which exposed her mark which was wrapped around her wrist and lower forearm today. Riddle came towards her with closed in black high heels complete with laces, setting them down on the floor before going around to her back.
He gathered her flame red hair and placed it softly over her shoulder. He grabbed the zipper between his thumb and his pointer and slowly pulled it up all the way to the top. It was an oddly intimate gesture that Persephone wondered to herself over as he took her hand and lead her over to the ottoman where she sat down. He kneeled before her, making her point her toes as he placed the shoe on her left foot and tightly doing up the laces before doing the same to the other. Persephone stayed silent through the process hardly daring to speak a word, but the routines of it relaxed her to an almost meditative state as she felt his warm breath on her lower leg and the tugs against her feet as he tightened her laces. Her tattoo tingled at his proximity, adding to her careless bliss as she half closed her eyes with a relaxed smile crossing her face.
Tom looked up at her when he finished tying the lace and Persephone absently reached out a hand to run it through his slightly wavy black tresses. He stayed absolutely still, as if he was scared of frightening her way as she gently stroked his hair with her delicate fingers.
"We have to go," whispered Tom. Persephone came back to herself and jerked her hand away as if burned while Riddle's mouth tugged at one corner. He drew his wand, pointed it at the door and flicked, waiting patiently for what he had summoned. A black box zoomed in and he caught it deftly, setting it down and lifting the lid. Inside was an ornate silver Venetian half mask encrusted with emeralds and a delicate swirling pattern along its thin metal exterior. He picked it up gently and held it in front of her face, the metal cool against her creamy skin where it fit snugly into place. Her mark warmed briefly before cooling again. Riddle withdrew his hand, resting it instead in his lap.
"It has various charms on it," he told her. "There's a sticking one to keep it up, dozens of protective and a delayed notice-me-not enchantment."
"A delayed charm?" Persephone queried.
"They'll be able to remember all your features when looking at you but after that you'll become hazy. They'll remember little things, your height, your power, your beauty but they won't be able to accurately describe you."
Persephone felt a warm glow at being called beautiful by him that she tried to ignore but couldn't. What was it about him that drew her in, that beat down her walls and enraptured her to everything about him? She had been raised to respect their Lord, to follow his every command without question but the Lord was Riddle, too.
"Like the deatheaters, your mask is keyed to your mark. You can use your wand to banish it into your mark and summon it. For the moment, never let anyone see your face, do you understand me?" Persephone nodded.
He stood, once again startling her and waiting for her to stand. She stood and pulled on her black cloak, walking over to the dresser to collect some pins and quickly plaited her hair into an elegant style atop of her head. Riddle grabbed her left hand and pulled her out of the room and all the way to what had been dubbed as 'the cloak room'. It was a room filled with, as suggested, cloaks. The unique thing about this room however was that if you bore the dark mark you were able to apparate in and out of it.
He tightened his hold of her hand, turning toward her without letting go and pulling the cowl of her hood up. Then he released her only to put both of his hands securely around her waist and after a moment's pause as Persephone's only warning turning sharply. The world twisted and a familiar sensation of not being able to breath appeared as they disapparated from Slytherin Manor.
…
With an almost silent crack two figures appeared in the green rolling hills of the countryside. There was nothing for miles all around, save for a simple decrepit barn.
"Stay close," Riddle whispered, starting towards it, Persephone just behind both with wands drawn.
Riddle pushed the overly large door, and it creaked open slowly revealing the interior. It was two storeys high, the second being only a hay loft. It was comprised of wood that was rotting away in places and stone covered the floor. It was a little too warm, and if they were muggles with uncharmed clothing they would have found the heat uncomfortable. Persephone's eyes narrowed.
There were no animals, yet straws of fresh hay were on the ground, spaced in no particular way. Her eyes slowly travelled up to the hayloft that was cast in shadows from the roof, sweeping the length of it. They finally zeroed in on a hazy near the centre, too hazy for it to be explained away by her eyes being unfocused from the distance…
On instinct she cast a stunner. The red light was absorbed by an invisible substance. The hazy area tipped forward, slowly regaining visibility as it fell through the air and finally colliding with the ground with the crack breaking bones. Riddle strode towards the figure, using his foot to turn it over before smirking in victory and summoning the stranger's wand to him.
"Envenerate," he intoned and the man spluttered awake, his eyes bleary until they sharpened with acute fear.
"No my Lord," he stammered. "Please, I beg mercy!"
"There is no mercy for you, Karkaroff," Riddle said coolly and Karkaroff paled.
"Karkaroff?" Persephone exclaimed, sneering derisively. "The traitor?"
"Indeed, Milady," Riddle said, echoing his words from the ball that seemed like a life ago.
"My Lady?" Karkaroff said, paling even further. Persephone's eyebrows, unseen behind the shadows of the cloak and her mask rose. Why was he scared of that name?
"Did I permit you to speak to her, Karkaroff?" Riddle snarled.
"I-I-no. Forgive me Master, I meant no-"
"Cease your pathetic snivelling, Karkaroff. You are giving me a headache." Karkaroff gulped, eyes searching frantically for an escape.
"I did nothing wrong," he tried weakly and Riddle's eyes gleamed murderously.
"Nothing wrong," he repeated softly. "Then what is it called when you attempt to sell out nine of your brothers to save your own skin?"
Karkaroff's eyes widened, though surely he knew it was coming. Riddle smirked.
"Persephone," he said. "Stand next to me please." Persephone closed the gap between them, standing on his right. He move behind her, pressing against her back, reaching out and grabbing the back of her right hand, dwarfed within his, so he could control it. He lowered his mouth to her ear.
"Now," he said lowly. "I know that you know dark spells and I know that you know the Unforgivables. However I doubt you have ever had the chance to perform them on a human being." Persephone inclined her head to show he was correct. "What I want you to do," he continued, "is to do the spells I say. We're going to make him scream, beg and plead, Persephone. We will make him see that death is a mercy." She shivered at his words, for the first time truly understanding what a horrible mistake it would be to have this man as your enemy.
"Let us start easy on him, shall we?" he asked almost pleasantly. "Exta entuntur."
She tortured him, caused him pain both mentally and physically under Tom's guidance, his hand directing hers. His dark magic pulsed around her, dancing across her own skin, lashing out against the traitor as he screeched. Her hood fell back, revealing her blood red lips curled up in a vicious smirk, her creamy complexion bright with an excited flush and her eyes shining with something akin to amusement.
If an outsider was to watch this scene, the irony would be obvious: two beings, so beautiful and raw that they resembled angels, the purest of souls, torturing a man to death. But even an angel can fall, and these two were Lucifer and Lucinda.
Riddle's voice urged her on, purring encouragements and spells; instructions when she didn't do it right and had to do it again. Karkaroff begged and screamed and cried as they destroyed his body, his entrails spilt, his fingers severed, his legs snapped, his hair set on fire, his heart still beating on the floor beside him. They broke him completely and utterly, the screams eventually sending little thrills through Persephone's body as she grew used to them. She began to laugh, the pealing sound almost musical as Karkaroff's screams turned into little moans as she tore out his voice box, blood pooling around him. Tom chuckled richly in her ear, spinning her around and holding her tightly to him. He crashed his mouth to hers, pushing her for all she was worth, a hand running down her back before grabbing her thigh and pulling it so it wrapped around his waist. Caught up in ecstasy, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, arching herself into him as glassy eyes watched lifelessly from the newly dead body on the ground.
Persephone's soul, previously the white of a neutral, slowly began to darken.
…
Hi everyone!
Very dark scene here with Persephone. I just want to make it clear that she will not stand for anyone harming children or severely harming teenagers or the elderly. She is obviously dark though, what did you expect from someone destined to be the Dark Lady?
I wanted to remind you all that James and Lily do exist. It's going to be interesting when they work out Persephone is their daughter.
And just what are the Lestrange's up too?
Also, do you like this or the last cover better? Should I keep it or change back?
Thanks, as always to all those who reviewed and followed and favourite.
Special thanks to Snarrylover91 for suggesting some new fanfic's for me to read. I love them all as long as they are interesting :)
Thank you all so much for reading,
XXX Electra2Pandora