~~~~~Author Note~~~~~
This portion of the story contains severe torture, emotional trauma, obsessive behavior, dissociative behavior, torture, captivity, and rape. It is a very intense chapter, but necessary to the future development of the story. Please read at your own discretion. There is a more graphic version of this available on Archive Of Your Own, simply because FanFiction has restrictions to how graphic content can be.
~~~~~Thank you!~~~~~
"Such a lovely creature." Voldemort crooned, stepping into the room so gracefully it was as if he walked on air. "You never told me your fiance was this becoming."
"I-I…" She couldn't take her eyes off of him. "M-my lord. To what do I owe this occasion?"
"I hear you are a potions genius. The talent of the millennia." He reached her and grabbed her chin with his cold, spindly fingers, angling her face so she looked at him.
"I… I am proficient." Her lips trembled, Avery keeping a firm grip on her arm so she couldn't make any sudden movements.
"I do enjoy a humble woman, but I am in need of a potion master." His fingers dug into her cheeks as he recited the lines from the newspaper.
"If there was someone capable of making a potion of eternal youth, it would be made with the talented hands of Runestella Black." He sneered, his yellowish teeth sharp and catching the light. "I want you to do just that. Make me a potion of youth, Runestella Black. One that can reverse my appearance so I look as I used to, and one that can keep me beautiful forever. Only a genius potioneer such as yourself is capable."
"I don't think that's possible-" Runestella began, and he squeezed harder, his nails pressing into her soft cheek.
"MAKE. IT. POSSIBLE." He hissed. "Or die trying."
Runestella trembled. The Dark Lord grabbed her upper arm, tugging her behind him. As she looked over her shoulder she saw Avery's smirking face. As if justice had been served. He pulled her to the end of a hallway and waved his hand, the wooden door flying open. In another instant he had tossed Runestella inside, her body slamming into the stone floor.
As she looked up she saw an entire potions laboratory. And a bed. And a bucket.
This was a prison.
"You have everything you need here. Make a prototype in 48 hours. You will be brought food once a day, if you behave, and when your handlers appear you can request more ingredients. I will return when you have something to show for your efforts."
She turned, panic on her face.
"Please, My Lord!"
"There will be consequences if you don't comply, Miss Black." With those ominous words he slammed the door behind him.
For hours she tried to escape. She slammed spell after spell at the door until she was panting and exhausted. Nothing happened. The barrier to keep her contained was perfect.
Voldemort was truly as powerful as people said. As Severus had warned her.
She nervously looked to the potions setup. Shaking, she walked to it and picked up some parchment and a quill to take inventory. The first step would be to know what she needed. And what she had. The script on the list was shaky but still legible. At the bottom she circled some very important ingredients. Unicorn hair. Pheonix feather. Occamy eggsExpensive. She wondered if she would be punished for asking for them. But she was unsure if she could perform a miracle without them.
Staring at the list she realized there were some other ingredients of interest on there.
Aconite. Foxglove. Boomslang skin. Basilisk Venom. Snake Fangs. Venomous Tentacula Spines. Lionfish Spines. Hellbore. Hemlock. Acromantula Venom. Baneberries. Belladonna.
It made sense that a parseltongue like Voldemort would be able to acquire many rare ingredients from serpents. Poisonous ingredients. Just like the trove of poisonous plants he had left. Poisonous ingredients could be processed and used in potion crafting. Poison had powerful effects if extracted properly, but they were used only in advanced potions because one wrong move could lead to instant death.
Perhaps she could make a potion so deadly it would slay the Dark Lord on the spot when he tested it. If he gave it to a minion to test perhaps she could slip away in the chaos.
Sweat beaded on her brow. If she did this there was no turning back. She had to follow through.
But there weren't even the appropriate ingredients to brew the sort of potion Voldemort wanted. And if there were, she didn't really want to help him achieve immortality and beauty. It was as if fate was telling her to rebel.
So she filled the cauldron with water and used incendio to start a fire. As the water heated she treated the ingredients. Crushed berries. Chopped and powdered roots, fangs and spines. Carefully weighed liquid venoms and balanced them with other venoms. She could make a highly corrosive Armadillo Bile Mixture with the Acromantula Venom, but she would have to brew Amortentia first. There was no time. She instead used the mild venom to bolster the effects of the Baneberry.
She hadn't realized that she hadn't slept. Every few stirs, counter clockwise, she'd flip the hourglass to time it again. It shifted in color dozens of time, bouncing from blood red, to acid green, to royal purple. At last, after the last addition of her distilled Hellbore, the potion clarified. With a wave of her wand it turned back to the color of the water.
Flavorless. Tasteless. Colorless.
Impossibly lethal.
This was the way. It had to be.
She bottled it, popping the cork on. Her heart pounding. There was no going back. Carefully she removed all traces of the ingredients she used, using the scourgify charm to scrub everything spotlessly.
Exhausted now that it was finished she curled up on the sleep mat, clutching the vial to her chest. And drifted into sleep.
Only to be jarred awake by the pounding on her door.
"Lady Black! The Lord has come to check your progress!"
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
"Lady Black!"
"I'm here…" She called, relieved to have the vial in her hand.
"Put your wand through the slot!" The man warned. She reluctantly did so. Once her wand was confiscated the door slammed open, a notable chill encompassing the room. Again she was overcome by the aura of power.
"It's been 48 hours, Miss Black." Voldemort warned. "Show me your progress."
She held out the potion, her hands trembling. He looked down with interest.
"You already completed a prototype?"
"Yes. This is similar to my last clear skin potion. It was easy to adapt." The lie spilled through her lips, her Slytherin cunning strong. He grabbed it, swiveling it in the vial.
"My lord…" His vassal, a greasy man who she did not know, stepped forward nervously. "I've never seen any potion so clear except Veritaserum. She might be trying something."
"Don't be daft, Grayson. A Veritaserum takes a full lunar cycle to brew. She couldn't have achieved it in two days."
Her heart thudded, the sound beating fiercely in her throat and ears.
"I don't think you should drink it. How can she be trusted?" The man glanced to Runestella and she flinched.
"Perhaps you are right." Voldemort sighed. In a fluid motion he popped the cork, gripped his vassal by the jaw and poured the potion down his throat. It was so quick Runestella barely had time to react. But she knew she had to act, and as soon as the man sputtered, blood pouring from his eyes and nose, she rushed forward to escape.
She made it a few steps before Voldemort easily stopped her motion with his wand. Tossed backwards, she collided with the floor roughly. All of her air was knocked from her and she wheezed, the sensation of her ribs compressing painful.
"I thought the sorting hat had been wrong!" Voldemort chortled, completely elated. A huge, menacing smile spread on his face. "I thought there was no way a meek little girl like you could belong to the great house of Slytherin! But I was wrong! You are as cunning as a fox, with the hidden lethality of a snake in wait. A perfect specimen!"
It was a strange monologue. Runestella coughed, tears pricking her vision.
"Ah, and this potion!" He giggled madly, kicking Grayson so that he rolled to the side, his face exposed. The potion had easily murdered him, blood pouring from every one his orifices.
"Tasteless! Colorless! No different from water, and brewed in only two days! You are truly the genius that the Daily Prophet spoke of! No potion has been made so lethal!" He closed the distance between them, his robes elegantly billowing in his wake, before gripping her face with his long fingers.
"I knew the Black family bred excellence. If you had not defied me, I would have given you a reward!" His smile faded. "Alas."
Mustering her last bit of strength she shrugged him off, glaring at him with her dark eyes.
"So alluring. Your hatred." The Dark Lord drew his wand. For a moment Runestella thought he might use Avada Kedavra to cut her life with a brilliant green end. A stillness overcame her and she still stared at him with defiance.
"Crucio!" He yelled.
It wasn't the killing curse.
But it was almost worse.
Agony rippled through her body, every nerve ending firing with the most acute pain imaginable. A scream broke free of her tense throat, her whole body writhing and curling. The pain lasted for what felt like an eternity. And all the while, Voldemort pressed his wand forward, a twisted satisfaction smoothing his face.
There was no telling how long the torture lasted, but by the time he lifted the curse she was left with no strength. Voldemort reached down and gripped her hair, lifting her up so he could stare into her face.
"From now on, Runestella Black, you will be the lab rat. All your potions will be tested in front of me with your own lips. And only when you achieve success will I partake. I should think it would be foolish to make a poison again."
At this distance his breath was putrid, but she couldn't fight him. He held his wand lightly in his palm and lifted it, using the tip of the wood to press against her lips. Something perverse and terrible crossed his mind and dread filled her, but it soon passed and he dropped his arm.
"Tell me what you need." Voldemort demanded. "I'm sure I missed some crucial ingredients."
"Dragon… liver." She began, so tired she could barely force the words out. "Angel Trumpet…. Unicorn Hair…. Pheonix tear. Occamy Eggshell."
"And is that all?"
If she was to test on herself she needed a failsafe. Something to ensure she wouldn't accidentally die. There was one critter she knew of that could absorb potions through their skin. It was horrible to use animals to test potions, but she had no choice.
"Live frogs."
"I see." He released her and she fell to the ground. Her vision went black.
When she woke up the corpse of Greyson was gone and her wand was on the table. This began a cycle.
She would brew, and work, and slave away. Create a potion. Test it on frogs. Voldemort would appear and force her to drink it. There would be minimal results beyond cosmetic. After the third or fourth potion, the Dark Lord grew impatient.
Runestella crouched over the dead frog in her basin, her mind racing.
"What am I missing?" She muttered, trying to balance all the ingredients in her brain and rationalize how they would interact.
"...perhaps… human energy? A soul?"
It was blasphemous. It was horrible. But it was the only missing link to her theory. The thing that would take the beautifying and restoring effects of her potion and bind it to the whole body.
"So you need a soul, then?" The keening voice of the Dark Lord came from behind her and she jumped, turning to see him lurking in the doorway. She hadn't heard him come in.
"My Lord…" She choked, suddenly in a state of panic. It was a mistake for him to hear. This could lead to many deaths. "No. I didn't mean that."
"There's no need to be coy, my little bird. It isn't surprising that such a grand potion would need grand ingredients. I shall procure some souls for you."
He had taken to calling her 'little bird' as a pet name. To remind her that he was his pet, kept in a gilded cage.
"My Lord! Please!" She tried to stop him, rushing his way, and he surprised her by meeting her halfway in the room. A gasp filled her chest and she stumbled, but he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush to him.
"All you must do is brew potions and look beautiful." The Dark Lord asserted. "Don't think of the ethics. If you don't start giving me results I will make you suffer."
"I-I…" She wanted to dissuade him but every instinct told her she was in danger.
"There are many ways to torture someone beyond the Cruciatus Curse." He continued. "Especially for a woman."
Her blood ran cold. It was clear what he was insinuating.
"But alas. I didn't come here today to charm you." Voldemort released her and she fell back. "I'm here to inform you that your brother, Regulus, is dead."
The information hit her like a ton of bricks. Everything in her screamed, just like she was hit with a curse again.
"...what?" Her voice trembled. She couldn't keep her emotions in.
"He betrayed me. And then was killed by my inferi." His face contorted into a twisted grin.
"N-no…that isn't possible. Reg followed everything you said. He would never betray you." Tears dribbled from her eyes.
"I have no reason to lie to you." He callously reached forward and brushed a tear from her cheek. It was deceptively gentle. "Oh, come now. There's no reason to make that face. I have a gift for you. After all, it's your birthday."
Her birthday. He chose to tell her about Regulus on their birthday.
The cruelty was astounding and it was all she could do to stand. As she reeled, sobbing from the news, he grabbed her arm, tugging her sleeve up, and then pressed his wand to it. A sizzling noise filled the room and her arm felt like it was on fire. She screamed, trying to struggle away, but he persisted. A gleeful tilt to his eyes turned them into a moon shape as he watched, mouth stretched into a smile.
The dark mark manifested on her arm, a snake twisting around a skull in a deep hue of black. Terrified, she jerked her arm back and stared wide eyed at what had been done.
"Isn't it a comfort, my little bird?" The madman giggled. "No matter where you go I can summon you. We are connected now."
Dread made her lose her footing and she fell to the dungeon floor, her arm still in deep pain.
"I'll be back with some distilled souls for you to use. I'm sure I can make it work. Regulus is long past able to salvage, but there will be plenty of witches and wizards who can be sacrificed for the cause."
He strode away, pleased that he completed his purpose. The door shut behind him and she found herself distraught. Curling into herself, she cradled her arm and cried.
"Reg…"
Again the experimentations continued. Eventually she was forced to ask for multiple cauldrons. Voldemort easily acquired the precious ingredients she had listed, which was very suspect but she didn't think to pry further. Now that she had multiple brew stations she could brew potions for longer, and some of the prototypes had brewed for weeks. Among the pricey ingredients, vials that contained a singular light were given to her.
She had never seen a dementor's kiss of death, but she had read about it. There were no doubts about the identity of the objects. They were souls. Her experiments were now branching out into something unethical. And if she thought too hard about the source of the souls she would lose all her determination. Compartmentalizing it in her brain as just another rare ingredient to use carefully, she proceeded with her experimentations.
Initially getting the soul into the cauldron proved to be a challenge, but after using gravity and guiding it with her hand she learned the trick. And it took her around three weeks to complete a brew with the new addition. It turned out as metallic and silvery as the blood of a unicorn.
And this time, when Voldemort forced her to drink it, she knew she was onto something big. All her aches and pains vanished, and when she looked into the mirror her dark circles were fading. Her cheeks looked less sunken. She was already young, but a vitality ebbed from her.
It made her stomach sink. Deep down she didn't want to be the genius she was hailed to be. She wanted to fail so the Dark Lord didn't get his way. But she was too good.
There were, however, side-effects. She found that out the hard way. The souls retained their memories, and when she slept she was plagued with terrible nightmares of their murder. The potions gave her near insomnia. And they weren't perfect, either. The effects would wear off after a few days and her skin would get duller. So her job was now to refine it so it lasted longer. Reversed more.
On her free time, while potions stewed, she would practice Occlumency. It was a practice she had read about during her quiet studying days at Hogwarts, where she kept her head low and her nose in books. And it seemed more important now than ever to protect her mind. Pushing everything from her mind and feeling nothing was a blessing, so she took to the practice quickly.
It must have been working because during Voldemort's most recent visit, he tried to poke into her mind. And his face oscillated between frustration, anger, and fascination when he could not. In a furious rage he pinned her against the wall, his breath heavy on her face.
"Little bird. My little bird in a cage. You've been closing yourself off to me, I see." He leaned into her, his cold hands digging into her face as he tilted her head so her neck was exposed.
"Remember." He growled. "When a little bird bites their owner they get their pretty little birdy necks broken."
She said nothing back, just narrowed her eyes into a glare. Her proud defiance sparked something in him and in an instant he had pressed his cold, thin lips to hers. Repulsed, she tried to pull herself free, but he easily overpowered her, crushing her into the wall. As a last resort she caught his lip in her teeth and bit down, tearing through. His blood poured down her chin and he pulled back with a grin, red pooling in the crevices of his teeth.
"I could enchant you." He hissed, grabbing her wrists and jerking them roughly above her head. "I could keep you immobile and helpless to anything I do. But there is something primal and raw about overpowering you with strength alone."
"Stop this!" She demanded, lurching at his hold.
"I'm going to dominate you without magic just to show you how helpless and pathetic you really are, little bird." To illustrate just how serious he was, he kept her wrists together with one of his large masculine hands and then used his free hand to tear the bodice of her dress.
"Please, don't do this." She shook, but her pleading only made his eyes flash with pleasure. Next she knew she was being slammed into the stone floor, her head bouncing on the brick and her vision flashing. She gasped, her chest compressed. The head injury made it hard to focus and she shakily fought back but was only pinned again.
It was painful and humiliating to have him tear into her clothes and disrespect her body. No matter how she tried to stay strong, she couldn't help the tears streaming down her face. All she could do was try to go somewhere else in her mind and visit the hill overlooking the Black Lake.
A smug smile covered his face as he took in the aftermath of his heinous act. She was still reeling, her head throbbing and body aching. Shame permeated her mind, and she wanted to hide but she couldn't easily move. But she couldn't think too hard on what had happened or he would crawl into her mind and dig around, so she tried her best to remain emotionless. For now.
"Produce results or I will find other uses for you." The Dark Lord promised, turning on his heel to leave. Before exiting the chamber he paused, looking over his shoulder with a hint of hesitation, before leaving entirely. Moments later her wand was returned to room. And she finally let herself process what had happened.
For a while she just cried. There was nothing else she could do. Once she had drained every repressed emotion she crawled over to her wand, gripping it in her hand tightly, and used the episky charm to patch up any superficial injuries.
After a little magic, she was at least well enough to stand. Rune got to her feet shakily and made her way to to the potions station. Before her usual experimentations she made a Wiggenweld Potion. And, for the first time ever, she made a Contraception Potion. The Wiggenweld healed any ails she had left. The other ensured that she wasn't carrying any abominations in her womb.
After she safely consumed both, she disassociated, her mind refusing to function emotionally anymore. Ironically the disassociation actually was a great companion to the practice of Occulumency, but it wasn't intention anymore. Her body moved on it's own as it brewed various combinations of her experimental brew. Though the process to remove herself from her reality was vile, it proved conducive to her task. In the numb way she was brewing she was more cavalier with the souls. It was good for results, though perhaps morally troublesome.
When she was spacing off she found herself returning to that hill at Hogwarts. Sitting beside Severus. Staring at his profile. When she was with him she felt so light. Like nothing else in the world mattered. How she wished that she could go there again. She had thought at the time that things couldn't be worse, but now she was proven wrong. Now she couldn't even find reprieve.
The next time he came and forced her to drink her new prototype the effects were even more glamorous than before. She glowed, as beautiful as a goddess, and felt stronger than she had ever felt. Pleased with her progress, he rewarded himself for her efforts. By again ruining her.
The effects lasted longer. As she was replicating the experiment her glowing youth ebbed, ever so slightly. And she knew it wasn't perfect yet.
Voldemort must have sent a Death Eater to periodically check on her because he knew just when her potion failed. And the horrible cycle would continue. Forced potion. Forced sex. Potions to fix things. Imagining the hill. Brew experiments again. Test on frogs. Voldemort visits. Repeat the whole process.
Once she thought to ease her burdens and made a potion that would heighten her arousal so when he decided to rape her she would at least feel pleasure, but it only worked the first time. He caught on to her clever ploy and instead let her suffer the effects of the potion, hands tied and miserable that she could find no relief.
After a particularly brutal visit with Voldemort had left her emotionally shattered and barely able to keep up her Occlumency, she grew despondent for days. Instinctively her mind was trying to protect itself from invasion by becoming nothing. It made her clumsy with brewing, an unusual occurrence. After brewing her most potent batch of experimental immortality potion, she spilled most of the cauldron.
If she were paying attention she would have never wasted a potion brewed with such horrible ingredients. Because she was still reeling from her mistreatment she had blundered. In an effort to clean it up she swiped at the mixture on the table, grazing her knife. The blade sliced into her hand. Startled, she pulled back and stared at the injury blankly.
Her blood poured out into the nearly empty cauldron. As she furrowed her brow in frustration about her mistake, she noted in the corner of her eye that the potion was changing color. It morphed from a unicorn blood silver to an iridescent rainbow, shimmering in the light.
Blinking, she focused her eyes, her faculties coming back. Curiosity rummaged in her brain and brought her to the present, the curious potioneer in her waking to the anomaly.
"What in the world?"
Something had happened. Using her blood had changed the potion.
"Could it be?" She took a dropper and extracted the potion, her injury forgotten as her blood dripped about. Pulling out a new frog, she brought it to the testing basin and deposited it. With careful aim she dripped the potion on to it's skin. It didn't take long for the potion to disappear through the dermal barrier.
Nothing happened. Her blood had actually ruined the potion.
She sighed, frustrated. For a moment, despite her wish for the Dark Lord to never get his way, she thought that she had the answer to her freedom. Some of the potion she spilled dribbled into the basin and she tried to wipe it, forgetting her hand was bleeding. The blood mixed with the potion again, turning it holographic. It was too much to manage and dripped down, stopped only by the corpse of an unfortunate frog that didn't survive her last test.
And astonishingly, the frog croaked. His legs twitched and he flopped around before getting to his feet and attempting to hop away. Rune stared at the exuberant amphibian, trying to process what had happened.
It reanimated the frog. Her potion had reversed death. She glanced at the potion coating her hand, logistics running through her mind. Did it work for everything? The frog had died of poisoning. But what of magical death?
Pulling out her wand she swallowed, guilt welling up. She had never used an unforgivable curse before, but in this instance she felt she had to know just how powerful her accidental potion had become.
"Avada Kedavra." She muttered, the whole room was encompassed with the green light that would take the life of the frog again. Still plenty potion coated her hand so she just flicked her fingers, the rainbow concoction spraying along the body of the frog.
Nothing.
The alive frog that had been dosed was still fine. No change.
It only worked for natural death.
"Perhaps it's because the killing curse kills the soul, not the body?" She muttered, furrowing her brow.
But why her blood? Why was that necessary for the potion to change in such a way?
She rummaged through the ingredients on the counter and found some 'blood of a foe', human blood, and dribbled it onto the unaffected potion on the counter. Nothing. No change. The red just didn't integrate with the silver brew. Her blood was the key.
Spacing out into the rest of the potion, she realized the variable.
She had been regularly dosing herself with the immortality brew.
The special ingredient to turn the brew into a potion of resurrection was the blood of someone who had taken the potion many times.
Again her mind raced. All the possibilities of creating this monstrous potion flitted in her mind. The ingredients were egregious. Unicorn Blood and Human souls among the worst. It was things that should never be used and she only used under duress.
If she told the truth about her brew there would be terrible consequences. The Order of the Phoenix didn't use the killing curse. If Voldemort's people died it would likely be within the scope of the potion so he could easily bring them back.
An endless army.
What was more, he would be murdering others to collect their souls so that she could make more. And she would be a human bag of blood, used and bled to accommodate the demand.
This was something that had to be buried.
She picked up the cauldron and started to dump it down the drain, and then paused before the liquid fell.
Unicorn blood and human souls.
Could she really throw such things away? Wasn't it just spitting in the face of the sacrificed?
She put the cauldron down, sweating nervously. It had to be concealed.
Her eyes dropped on a vial. Vinegaroon acid. It was useless to her pursuits so far. And small enough to conceal easily.
She popped the cork of the bottle and began to dump it as well, but paused again.
Voldemort was due to come soon. She needed an excuse as to why she didn't have a prototype. Pulling her sleeve down she exposed her arm. Clenching her jaw, she poured the acid on to her skin.
A scream bubbled up in her throat and she forced herself to keep it in her chest, not wishing to draw attention before she was ready. Her flush bubbled and burned, the acid working it's way through the top layer of her skin. In a rush to negate the acid before it did more damage she thrust her arm into the bucket of water by her bed for drinking.
Now she was shaking badly, the pain still fresh, but she had to finish her task. First she had to rinse the bottle and scrub it out with scourgify just to ensure there was no residue left. And then she carefully ladled what little of the potion was left into the little vial. It was only as long as her pinky finger, but it was all she could salvage.
Sure that the cork was on securely, she hid the small potion behind the other ingredients before setting to work cleaning up. The potion that was contaminated on the counter was scraped up and went into a little opaque storage container, just in case. When the knock sounded on her door she was just finishing her tidying. No trace of a potion was left.
"Your wand." Voldemort demanded. She winced and fumbled with it left handed, trying to put it through the slot. Once she managed, the door swung open.
"Well, little bird. Shall we test your potion today?" He paused upon looking at her, the smell of burning flesh still in the air.
"Care to explain?" He growled, looking at the arm she kept clutched in her hands. Sure that her Occlumency was in place, focusing only on the pain and nothing else, she easily recited her story.
"I was nearly done with the potion and I added too much dragon claw ooze. It exploded and burned my arm."
"Where is the potion?" He demanded, noting that her station was clean.
"Since it was corrosive I cleaned it. I didn't want my equipment damaged. There is no prototype at this time."
Furious, he whipped out his wand. For a moment she thought he might kill her, but he instead aimed it down and pressed the tip into her burned flesh.
"Ahhh!" She yelled, the pain radiating with the pressure. For a moment her walls in her mind slipped, but she had just enough forethought to control her defenses.
"Episky." He calmly muttered, sure to take his time torturing her before healing her. The flesh on her arm responded to his charm, knitting up. It wasn't a clean heal, an obvious burn scar left behind on her forearm.
"Thank you for healing me, My Lord." She knew not to be too defiant or it would set him off. It did no good. He stared at her arm and his face melted with disgust and anger.
"Look at this!" He gripped her wrist, pulling her arm up to get a closer look. "You've gone and scarred your perfect skin! You belong to me and you still have the audacity to disfigure yourself!"
"I-I'm sorry…?" It was such a bizarre response that she was unsure of how to deal with it. Before she could ponder it more, he raised his hand and swung it so it collided firmly with her cheek. It sent her reeling to the ground.
"You will be punished today. Both for your injury and your incompetence." Vodemort walked out the room and slammed the door, leaving her confused.
Her wand wasn't returned. It meant he was planning on coming back.
She stationed herself by the door in a small ball, waiting for her inevitable torture.
Soon she heard Voldemort's voice along with another familiar voice. It was her cousin's husband. An in-law.
"This is a task only you can do, Lucius." The Dark Lord crooned.
"I'm unsure of what you are talking about, my lord. While I am thrilled to be of service, Severus is usually your first choice."
"Yes, this is about Severus, actually." Voldemort's voice was smooth, like the scales of a snake. "He has been a little too arrogant recently. He keeps chirping about sparing Lily Potter. I've almost entertained it, but he doesn't know when to stop. Beyond his obsession with that mudblood he keeps asking about Runestella Black."
"Runestella?" Lucius knew her and was instantly intrigued. "My lord, she's been missing for a year now. You don't mean to tell me you know of what happened to her?"
A year. Rune wanted to cry at the revelation. She had been in there for an entire year. It felt so short because she had spent most of her time drawing into herself and erasing her existence.
"Of course I do, Lucius. She's my little bird, after all." The knob of the door rattled. "And I need your help to remind Severus not to ask for too much."
The door swung open to reveal the Dark Lord and Lucius. They looked around the room before they realized she was to the left of the frame, waiting patiently.
"Runestella? Is that you?" Lucius stepped forward, astonished to see one of the lost Black twins.
"Lucius. I need you to punish her as well." Voldemort wore a demented grin. "Rape her."
"What?" Lucius' gaze snapped to his master, wide and incredulous. "But, she's my wife's…"
"Cousin. I know. But it's best to keep these things in the family, right?" He leaned down, grabbing on to Runestella's face and tilting it to the light. The spot where he had slapped her was throbbing at the pressure.
"Just look at how lovely she has become, Lucius. You cannot tell me that you haven't harbored dark desires for her before. This is not just a punishment for Runestella and Severus. This is a congratulatory gift for you as well. I heard your wife safely delivered your heir."
Lucius' eyes dropped to Runestella and she knew by the shine in his gaze he was going to take Voldemort's offer. Horror filled her and almost knocked away her mental protections.
Narcissa would never forgive her.
"If it is the decree of my master, I have no choice but to comply." He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the wall and tossing her roughly on the floor.
"Lucius, please." She tried getting through to him but he advanced, undoing his belt.
"Strip, Runestella." He ordered, folding the belt in two in his hands.
"Lucius-"
"I said to strip." With a loud crack he swung his belt and hit her firmly on the side. She hissed, clutching the spot. Defiantly she glared at him. Frustrated with her lack of cooperation he descended on her.
"Let go!" She hollered, flailing her arms. He caught them and wrenched them together, looping the belt over them and pulling it tight so that she couldn't use them.
"Stella…" He muttered before leaning over and inhaling the scent of her hair.
"I said no!" Asserting her refusal she bucked.
With a smirk he used his hands to tear at her feeble, worn clothing. It was shredding, leaving her vulnerable. Last he ripped at her skirt, freeing her legs.
"STOP!" She yelled, tears springing up.
"Enough!" Voldemort called. They froze. Runestella looked over to the Dark Lord and saw an expression she never thought he would wear. Rage and confusion. Pure fury burned in his eyes and stopped Lucius cold.
"That is more than enough. Get off her Lucius. It turns out I don't like others touching what is mine."
After a long moment of hesitation Lucius got off her. The regret on his face told her that he really wished he could have finished the job.
"Accio!" The Dark Lord held out his hand and a camera he prepared flew into his grip. He tossed it at Lucius.
"Take a photograph of her. Her swollen cheek and ruined clothes will be enough to get our point across."
Lucius held up the camera and adjusted the shot through the viewfinder. Desperate for some sort of decency, she covered her breasts and crotch with her hands. As soon as she was covered, the shutter clicked open. A photo fed out of the slot on the camera and Voldemort grabbed it, his smile spreading as it developed.
"I'm going to show this to Severus and tell him he can only save one woman."
A sadness overcame her. It was no contest.
"He will always choose Lily." She whispered. Voldemort heard her and smiled.
"All the better. I wasn't going to allow him to have you anyways. The moment he chooses Lily, I will set the date for our wedding."
"Master! Surely you can't mean-" Lucius' eyes grew large.
"It has bothered me that Runestella is not truly mine. If they saw her now they would say I kidnapped her."
You did, she bitterly thought.
"But if she were to be my wife, no one could take her from me." Once more he took her face in his hands and stared at her, trying to read her thoughts. She put the walls firmly up in her mind. Now that she had a secret she really couldn't afford to slip up.
"You can't mean to marry this girl and give her that honor. She doesn't even swear loyalty to you! She has done nothing to-"
"Lucius." Voldemort's cold voice gave him pause. "Runestella is a woman of the finest pedigree from the prestigious Black Family. She has more talent in her pinky finger than most wizards have in their whole body. Her list of accomplishments is astonishing. Of course she deserves to be my wife. I thought you would be pleased if we were in-laws?"
"Don't you see how defiant she is?" Lucius tried again.
"Yes, and is that not love?" Voldemort crooned. "All marriage leads to hate eventually. She is already filled with me. The more she hates me, the more lovely she becomes. And I have the power to covet her. It does not matter if she loathes me, because I can easily break her whenever I choose."
Lucius grew silent.
"Yes. As you wish." He finally muttered.
Voldemort stood and led the way out of the room.
"And, Lucius? Keep this place absolutely secret. There has been wolves sniffing around, trying to find my bird."
Wolves? Surely he couldn't mean… Remus?
Shortly after they left her wand was returned and a new set of clothing was given to her. She expected a sack, like a house elf would wear, or the clothes of a beggar. But instead it was a lovely gown. Uncomfortable to wear, but still flattering with a tight bodice and lace detailing. In black to suit her namesake.
She had no idea it would be the last time he visited.
In the time spanning after the chaotic visit with Lucius she went to work on brewing a new potion and this time she knew she got the proportions right. The potion was silver, just as before, but this time it had a crystallized sparkling quality about it. As if the souls infused were at their full potential. When she tested it she felt a huge wash of energy, and when she went to the mirror she noted that she looked significantly younger. As young as she could look with her bone structure and height.
The immortality potion did not change the growth of the bones or the state of puberty. She realized that. But it did reverse all signs of aging, and in the mirror she looked just like she did at 14 when she finally developed into a young woman.
All that was left was the longevity test. So far the effects of the potion never lasted long enough to show at Voldemort's next visit. And there was still a bit of time before he was due to appear so she ran more tests on frogs. There was some extra of the resurrection potion from her profitable accident and she had scraped it into a covered pot. It was impossible to tell the concentration or purity because it was the sludge on the table, but it was enough to see the limits of the potion she saved.
She first killed a handful of frogs. Every two hours she would try the potion to see if it would work. It was important for her to know just how long she had to use the potion before it lost effectiveness.
After 12 frogs, and waking herself up on time to continue her test, she started to run out of potion. And the frog didn't come back to life.
"24 hours." She muttered. "One day."
She picked up the phial of potion, hidden in the Vinegaroon Acid bottle. It was small with a tiny gemstone encased in the glass. Beneath the white gem was a peeling label that hinted at it's former contents, and the glass was colored green to protect the longevity of the ingredient. Now the green hid the beauty of the holographic brew, which was fortunate since no other known potion looked like it.
In her mind she prayed she would never need the cursed cure.
After a while she felt the glowing effects of her immortality potion wear away, but as she looked in the mirror she didn't look any older. It was a success, as she thought. But she began to wonder as she held the tiny bottle if it was more complex than she realized. By the effects of her blood on the potion she could deduce that her blood itself was saturated with the her brew.
Some potions required repeating doses to build up the strength of it, like wolfsbane. Perhaps, though her most recent variant was the final and perfect version, it would be ineffective without constant dosing. Which meant that whomever took the potion would need a constant supply to maximize the effects.
People would have to continue to die to keep the production of potions up. Just like the resurrection potion, the cycle would never end. It was just as cursed as the potion she hid. But she couldn't hide her youth and vigor from Voldemort.
Dread filled her. And she wondered what she would do when he arrived.
But he never did. She grew hungry. Desperation fueled her as she ate through the ingredients.
And after what must have been weeks of starvation she knew she was dying. Everything hurt. Her stomach no longer ached, as if it had just given up. It was ironic she had a potion that could bring herself back to life but she would never be able to use it. Her entire life was pitiful.
Weak, she collapsed on to her bed, trying to keep her wand lit to keep herself conscious. She had used the last of her strength to rummage through everything just to ensure nothing was left. She wanted to get the poisonous herbs to end everything, but the lids were too tight. If she could gather the strength she would eat those just to fill her stomach. With a full belly she could die of the poison in comfort.
If she could only find the strength.
There was no telling how long she had stayed there, but the world turned fuzzy and her ears were ringing with a shrill tinnitus. Her mouth was dry and parched and her lips where chapped. Her muscles ached. The dress that had fit her so well when Voldemort left it for her was now hanging off her body awkwardly, nothing but bones left.
"Lumos." She muttered, her voice raspy. The light flickered before going out. There was not even strength for magic anymore.
All she could think of was who she missed. Her brother, Regulus, who was now dead at the hands of the villain that had trapped her. All he wanted was to please their parents. Sirius, who was fighting against Voldemort with his friends. The big brother who protected her the best he could. Remus. One of her few friends, and a true friend at that. He made sure she was never lonely.
And Severus.
How much she missed him. Even before Remus she could call him a friend. He always supported her, no matter what she wanted to do. And he was an ear when she was feeling down. No matter when it was, when she was upset about Avery or her parents, she would first thing to find him and have idle chatter.
Her heart ached.
She should have at least confessed her feelings to him. There was no way he would reciprocate. Severus had always been in love with Lily. But at least Runestella wouldn't die regretting what could have been. Instead she pined for him while he pined for another.
Slytherins were truly good at lingering unrequited love. Her lips quirked with the dark humor.
"BOMBARDA!" The door blew open at the hinges from the other side. Her magic inside didn't work, but apparently it was laughably easy to open it from the other way. It mocked her how easy it was. Which meant it had to be a dream.
She was never going to escape from this place.
"Lum...os." Runestella muttered again, trying to keep her mind working. The wand flickered like a firefly.
"Rune!" A voice she easily hallucinated a dozen times broke into her consciousness, the sound dulled like it was yelled from the end of a tunnel. Footsteps approached, muffled, and a figure dropped to their knees in front of her. She tried to focus, but her mind was so muddled she could only blink weakly.
"Rune, please!" Hands gripped her shoulders and shook her, her brain sloshing.
But it was Severus' voice.
"Sev…" She whispered, closing her eyes so she didn't get motion sick.
"Yes. It's me. I found you."
"Nice try." A giggle poured out. "I know I'm… going to die… here."
"No. No you won't die." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his body. And through his stiffly buttoned shirt she could feel his warmth. There was a pressure on her body where he gripped. Some clarity returned to her brain.
"You're actually here?" The words rasped, but they were clearer than before.
"I'm here. I'll help you." For the first time since she met him his voice trembled. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't find you."
"It's okay." Runestella could only hang limply from his arms. "I knew that you would choose Lily. There… is no use in worrying about me… when you have her."
He pulled back, a mixture of grief and guilt in his eyes. Something was wrong. But she couldn't ask. She was so tired. All the adrenaline she gained when he found her was ebbing away.
"Sev. You must… take… the Vinegaroon Acid. It's… important."
And then everything for her faded to black.