Chapter 8: A Very Mariah Chapter

The air was heavy with moisture; the clouds gray and overbearing. I could tell it was about to rain, but I didn't care. I was furious, furious with Draco.

I was so angry that I almost missed the sound of footsteps behind me. Almost. I turned around but to my astonishment, there was nothing there. The road wasn't lit properly but there was enough light pooling out from the several shops I was passing. Suddenly a door to my left flew open flooding the area with the somber lights of candles. It proved me right, there was nothing behind me. I must've heard the people shuffling around inside one of the buildings.

I turned back towards my destination. However I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a pair of eyes on me. The feeling crawled up my spine and made me shiver. I'm used to having people watch me. Guys have always admired me as I walk by, ever since I started accentuating my assets. Men love to stare at breasts and swaying hips. I may have gained a lot of attention in the past, and trust me I don't regret it, but I had never felt uncomfortable under someone's gaze. Not until tonight.

Hastening towards the building Draco lived in, I cast a final glance over my shoulder. Still nobody. Up the stairs I climbed, two steps at a time my anger coursing through my veins once more as I recalled the reason I was there.

I walked up to Draco's door and started banging.

Then I heard the rustling of a cloak. "He's not there, honey." A voice whispered into my ear.

I spun around withdrawing my wand.

"Expelliarmus." A man said almost lazily, flicking his wand. Mine soared right towards him and he caught it.

"Why don't we go inside, honey? Malfoy isn't here but I doubt he'll mind."

He unlocked the door and proceeded through it, shoving me inside as well.

"Sit." He ordered directing me towards one of the kitchen chairs. I did so and was immediately bound to the seat.

I watched as Antonin Dolohov walked around the flat. I immediately heard the sound of screeching birds when he threw open a door. I could see his eyes widen. He stepped inside and returned moments later with a note tied to the leg of a screech owl. He sent the owl off to Merlin knows where. All I know is that it isn't going to someone who will help me.

"Mariah Tyler, right?" He said eyeing me up and down.

I nodded.

"Such a shame he isn't here to save you." Dolohov didn't have to use Draco's name for me to understand. After all, who else would he be talking about inside of Draco's flat? "Why don't you tell me where he is and I'll send him a message?"

I said nothing.

"Crucio."

My body was on fire, unbearable, persistent, hungry fire. Nothing could have ever cured the pain. I writhed and shook overcome with blindness. Nothing in the world was real except the fire that was climbing across my skin. I hoped I would die. That the pain would end.

And then suddenly it did. I would have liked to think I was dead, but I wasn't that lucky because a deep, angry voice grounded me.

"Where is?" Dolohov asked evenly.

I shook my head.

"Tell me where he is."

"Never," I spat at him.

"Very well. Crucio."

When the pain subsided again there was another man standing in the room. This one was blonde. He stood tall and he would've looked regal had his face not been gaunt and his hair thin. He had clearly suffered recently. He glared at me and even beneath his evilly twisted features I could tell that he was Draco's father.

"Lucius," I said trying to sound more forceful and stronger than I was.

"Ah, good, we don't have to become acquainted." He drawled. "My, my, my, what a lovely girl you are. Tell me where Draco is and I'll let you go."

"Why should I?"

"Draco and I have some... family business to attend to."

I didn't respond. Clearly this was no ordinary family business to which the older Malfoy referred to; otherwise I doubt I would be sitting here being tortured.

"Legilimens."

Draco is standing outside the hall as I walk towards him for our date. He is handsome as always. He greets me then takes my hand. We twist into darkness... Draco is saying goodnight. I lean forward and we kiss. My head spins into fog... Draco is taking notes as I stare at his beautifully crafted face. He turns to me and smiles. The light becomes so bright its blinding... I'm fighting with Thomas Chaplin. He screams that Draco is no good for me. My vision becomes faulty... I'm walking towards Draco's flat...

When the spell lifted I gasped for breath. While this one didn't physically hurt me, it was mentally exhausting. I had just re-lived snippets of my relationship with Draco.

"Look at me." The voice of Lucius Malfoy commanded.

I looked up to see anger clearly etched into his features.

"You do not know." He said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. There was nothing in my memories that could alert him as to where his son was. I mentally thanked Draco for ignoring me recently because his father couldn't get to him through me. It would be okay if I came out with a few cuts and bruises as long as Lucius couldn't get to Draco. And now that they had extracted all knowledge I had they would let me go. I was no longer important.

"Crucio" Lucius shouted.

The fire was back. I couldn't feel anything beyond the blinding pain throughout my entire body. When it ended I was aware of one thing. There was a cold blade pressed against my left arm. At first I was thankful for it; it helped reduce the feeling of burning left behind by the curse. But then the significance dawned on me. While the blade wasn't cutting into my skin, it held the promise of more pain.

Dolohov slid the blade across my skin being careful not to puncture it. "I never was a brilliant artist," he murmured into my ear, "but that doesn't stop me from carving pictures."

More pressure was slowly placed on the blade until droplets of blood began to fall. The knife tore through my skin easily, almost gracefully. My breathing became heavy but I didn't scream. This pain was, believe it or not, more bearable than the Cruciatus Curse, especially since my nerves felt numb after experiencing it three times this single evening. Not only could I hardly feel the cold steel moving across my arm, but my mind could not comprehend that the red which was slowly becoming the dominant color around me was seeping from my arm. Dolohov would occasionally wipe the blood off of my arm so that he could examine the work he was doing. Slowly I watched as a skull began to form on my previously unblemished arm. It was beautiful really, a scar that I wouldn't mind having for the rest of my life. It'll be hard to explain to friends why there was a skull on my arm, but I'm sure I could manage. I hear they are becoming quite popular in clothing and jewelry in the muggle world. If I start to wear muggle clothing the new scar will fit right in. I smiled as I imagined myself decked out in skulls of all colors.

A voice brought me out of my musings, "Dolohov, she is smiling. Clearly your tactics are not working." Lucius looked very disappointed as he stared daggers at me.

Dolohov squeezed my arm and I shrieked finally feeling the pain that accompanies a slashing of that magnitude. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I slipped into unconsciousness.