The Dragon's Child Bride

A/N: this chapter is done, hooray! i struggled for awhile to properly create the right enviroment for Laylani in relation to what is to come in future chapters. it involved more reviewing of psychology (my former major) than i'd care to admit. at any rate, doooooooooone! on with the reading and the reviewing and the happiness, hooray!




CHAPTER 35: IN THE DARK


Hazy images swirled through her consciousness. Sounds around her swelled louder before becoming softer, intermittent, washing over her like waves on a beach. Then a single point of cold, freezing, placed against her cheek, drawing down to her jaw.

And then, nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was late. So late it might even be early. Upon leaving the infirmary, Draco had gone directly to his rooms, not wanting to see anyone. Upon arriving, he’d changed the portrait password as well as performing some strong locking charms on the door that connected to the Head Girl’s quarters. He’d then collapsed into the sturdy wing-backed chair he’d often used for reading and stared pointedly into the fire, watching the dancing flames until they’d lowered into embers and ash, finally burning out.

The room was cold now, and dark. He could feel his wand in his sleeve, but could not motivate himself to reach for it and relight the flames, or do anything really, other than sit, scowling at the hearth.

He’d never thought, never once even considered the possibility that they would be separated. The thought had never even crossed his mind. And now, Draco didn’t know what to do. Everything seemed a bit off, as if the universe had shifted in some slight way, and he didn’t know how to adjust.

Logically, it was rather ridiculous; she’d been with him only a few short months. He’d been without her for eleven years; the adjustment should have been quick and easy. But those months had felt like a lifetime, more real to him then anything that had happened in the years without her. He loved her.

Merlin, he loved her.

He wondered now how he’d never noticed how incomplete he’d been before she’d come into his life and made him whole. Now it was like a piece of him missing, something vital that made things work, that made him work, and without it now he was broken.

He wondered if she felt the same, wherever she was.

Draco was willing to admit to himself, if only to himself, that he missed her. More than missed her, he needed her. Needed her more than he’d ever needed anything in his life. So much it hurt.

He finally stood up, his movements almost mechanical as his limbs and joints regained motion as he crossed the room, exiting through the portrait. The hallways were dark and nothing stirred. No one was about.

He walked silently through the empty corridors and staircases, mindlessly maneuvering himself until he came to a stop at the portrait of the maiden by the shore, asleep, leaning against the frame. He rattled the frame before calling out quietly “Follow the yellow brick road.” The maiden gave him a sleepy smile as the portrait softly clicked open.

Her room was dark, illuminated by the moon. Even in the dim lighting he could see that the house elves had already been there, tidying up after the afternoon’s events. A fire burned brightly in the fireplaces, both in the living room and the bedroom, creating warmth for a resident who wasn’t coming.

He walked through the room, gingerly brushing his fingers along her things. Her sweater draped haphazardly over the chair. Her quills, a few books strewn errantly over her desk, a parchment with her neat script. He traced a finger over the ink. ‘…between the fourteenth and seventeenth century. After the withdrawal…’

It was then he realized he wasn’t breathing. Prying his lips apart, he gasped for air, releasing his breath in a choked sob. Gods, she was gone. He didn’t know when he would see her again, if he would see her again. He didn’t even know where she was being kept.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Consciousness suddenly filled her entire being like an electric surge. As if a switch had been flicked on, Laylani was suddenly and entirely awake and aware, as if she’d never been unconscious at all. Her first thought was that she was cold. She gasped a deep breath and immediately had to fight the urge to gag. The air was heavy, damp, and foul.

It was the familiar rattle of heavy chains that first put a cold grip of fear inside her. Then the endless rusty interlocking loops of metal that stemmed out from the wall behind her. Her breath quickened as her eyes followed the path of the chains from the wall into dizzying patterns before leading to the tight cuffs wrapped around her neck, wrists and ankles. Small, almost animal-like whimpers began to escape her as her breathing grew so rapid, she was near the point of hyperventilating. She tugged hard at the chains, as if they might somehow release her by her willing it; they held fast. Laylani yanked violently against her bonds, desperately searching her mind for a spell, any spell that might release her.

“Diffindo.” She whispered. Nothing. “Evanesco.” Still nothing. A thought hit her hard; the Dark Robes had learned from last time, the chains were resistant to magic. As long as they restrained her, she would be unable to perform a single spell. She would be unable to defend herself. A low moan started deep in her chest, quickly escalating to a scream.

The room was suddenly filled with an angry booming voice, distinctly male. “Shaddap in there!”

Her eyes fell on the door in the wall across from her. It was wooden, looking to be rather heavy. A thin stream of flickering light shone from under the door. The light under the door wavered as shadows moved back and forth.

“H-hello? Someone, anyone?” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. “Please, please let me out! Help me, please?” Her voice wavered unsteadily.

The shadow under the door stilled, and the door swung open, revealing a masked Dark Robe. Drawing his wand, he hissed “Crucio.”

The fiery pain stole up her spine and extended out through every nerve of her being. She fell back, her head connecting painfully with the stone floor. Her back arched high as her limbs stiffened; she was defenseless against this unbearable agony. And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

“Let that be a lesson to yeh.” He muttered, spitting on the floor before turning and exiting the room. The door slammed loudly.

She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees pulling them tightly against her chest. She felt herself getting lightheaded and tried to force herself to take a deep breath. Swallowing hard, she tried to take stock of her surroundings.

The room was built of dark stone, without windows. The only sources of light were two flickering sconces on either side of the room. One corner was filled with a mound of straw, but the rest of the room was empty. She could hear dripping somewhere, the maddening beat of water falling on stone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco awoke in a daze. His pounding head protested violently against his attempt to sit up, thus it was abandoned and he collapsed back into his previous position on his chest, lying on Laylani’s purple couch.

It was a moment before his vision came into focus. The first thing he could see was an Ogden’s bottle lying on its side with less than a quarter of the liquor pooling inside of it, and more spilled on the coffee table as well as the floor. He groaned in disgust and turned his head away only to find himself face to face with the open pages of Laylani’s silver notebook.

Sometime after he’d begun to sob, he’d found himself sitting on the floor, his back against her couch, with a clear view of the bottle she’d left on the floor only that afternoon. At the time it seemed like a good way to make his pain disappear, and he’d promptly got himself pissed. He remembered only bits and pieces of what happened afterwards.

He remembered finding her silver notebook underneath her desk. He could remember flipping through it, thinking to himself that she would want to have this, wherever she was. He remembered finding the first empty page and, without thinking, summoning a quill and writing on it. First he’d written all the things he’d meant to tell her, the things he’d been intending to tell her but just hadn’t gotten around to which, he could distinctly remember, had led to another long drink. Then he’d found himself writing things he’d told her before but thought he ought to tell her again, in case she forgot or was unsure.

Looking at the pages now, it seemed that sometime after that he’d simply begun to write anything that had come into his mind, the words ‘I miss you,’ ‘I love you,’ and ‘I’m drunk,’ appearing several times in sloppy hand on the pages he could see.

Steeling himself, Draco pushed himself into an upright position, limiting himself to a quiet groan as his head pounded and stomach rolled. He picked up her notebook, carefully smoothing any rumpled pages before shutting it. She would want this, he was certain. Maybe, if he gave it to Dumbledore, he could somehow get it to Laylani. Draco didn’t know how to send it to her directly, and was fairly sure that there was no chance in hell that Dumbledore would provide him with the information to do so; the moment he knew, the moment he even had an inkling of where his Princess was being kept, he would go after her, find her, never let anything keep them apart again.

He sighed, leaning back into the couch. He hadn’t had a reason for coming here last night, but perhaps a small part of him had hoped it would somehow make him feel better. And now here he was, no better off, perhaps even worse off than he’d been before and hung over. Would Laylani have kept a hangover potion? She must have, he reasoned, with all the drinking she’d been doing. The most likely place she’d keep it was the loo.

Swallowing hard, he stood and lurched in the direction of the bathroom.

He flinched, cursing and covering his eyes as he crossed through her bedroom. Who the hell had left the damn curtains open? He could feel the tightening in his chest at the very thought; Laylani had left them open. She liked the sunshine.

He managed to stagger into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Pulling out his wand, he cast a lighting spell. The likeliest place Laylani would keep a sobering potion was-

He was not prepared for what the light revealed. Her mirror was smashed, shards of it littering the counter and floor. The Dark Mark was drawn in dark red on the wall where the mirror had been.

Draco didn’t know what to think. Had she done this?

“Rather disturbing, isn’t it?” Draco spun around, surprised to see the Headmaster standing outside the bathroom door. He’d half a mind to ask him what he was doing in Laylani’s private quarters when he remembered that, technically speaking, he wasn’t supposed to be there either. Dumbledore crossed the threshold and came to stand behind the Slytherin.

“Dobby informed me of this rather ghastly scene, having found it cleaning up after yesterday’s fiasco. I had intended to investigate the situation last night, but-” the Headmaster paused for a moment, “I thought perhaps you would appreciate some time alone.” Draco hung his head. Of course the Headmaster would see him when he was a sobbing, pathetic drunk. “I brought this as well.” Dumbledore held out a vial of hangover potion that he must have procured somewhere from his flowing robes. Draco snatched the vial gratefully.

“Thank you sir.” He mumbled, uncorking the vial and downing the contents. Dumbledore nodded. His expression turned stern for a moment.

“You know Hogwarts does not approve of this sort of behavior. As Headmaster, it is my duty and responsibility to see to it that this sort of thing doesn’t happen within the school walls.” Draco took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir.” He said quietly, bracing himself for whatever punishment the man would dole out.

Dumbledore’s amiable nature returned instantly. “Good. So long as that’s understood.” Draco looked up, surprised.

“Sir?”

“I think ‘don’t do it again’ is rather implied, wouldn’t you say?” Draco nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore turned his attention back to the mirror. His usual knowing smile had vanished again and in its place was a frown, deep with concern and contemplation. He drew his wand from his sleeve and began executing some complicated motions, muttering spells Draco had never heard before. The Mark turned blue, then black, then green before finally Dumbledore murmured a quiet ‘Evanesco.’ And it disappeared.

“Someone has gone through a lot of trouble to hide their identity, but there is enough of a magical signature here to be sure this was done with a wand. I believe it is fair to say the culprit here is not Ms. Stanners.” Draco held in a sigh of relief. “However,” Dumbledore went on, “this brings us to a new and much more serious problem. Death Eaters have breached the schools walls undetected, long enough to gain entry to her private quarters.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco spent the bulk of his day in his rooms, not going to meals or classes. It was nearly four in the afternoon before the rumbling of his stomach forced him out of the room. He’d taken only a few steps into the hall when Blaise Zabini turned the corner and began walking towards him with a rather determined look on his face.

Shite.

Draco turned quickly back towards his quarters. Fuck it, he’d just go hungry. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this now. He’d just about had his portrait shut when Blaise stuck his hand in and grabbed onto the portrait’s frame, pulling it open.

“A strange thing happened yesterday Malfoy.” Blaise began, “I found my father wandering around the halls after third period. Said he must have come to visit me. He seemed a bit confused.”

“Hmm. That is strange. Goodbye.” Draco said flatly, again trying to shut the portrait

Forcing the portrait open, Blaise stepped inside. “He seemed to have no idea what he was doing in Hogsmeade; no recollection of any meetings.” He gave Draco a pointed stare. “Imagine my surprise to discover he’d been obliviated.” Draco frowned, walking over to the hearth and staring into the fire.

“I paid for the land.” He said finally. “I filled out all the paperwork.” Blaise nodded.

“I made sure of that.”

Draco sighed, collapsing into his chair by the fire. He gestured to the one next to him, and Blaise took a seat. Long moments of silence stretched out between them.

“Why?”

“I had to. I had no choice. Laylani-” He paused to collect his thoughts as well as his composure. “I needed the land for Laylani. I needed someplace no one knew about, someplace where I could keep her safe.” There was really no way to explain himself without telling Blaise everything. He shrugged to himself; what did it matter now? She was gone. With a sigh, Draco began his story from the beginning, from Laylani’s disappearance to her sudden reappearance just a few months ago, her strange behavior, his meetings with the Order, and finally the climactic events of yesterday afternoon.

Blaise was quiet for a moment, mulling over all the new information.

“What about me?” he asked finally.

“What about you?”

“I knew you had the land.” Draco shrugged.

“I imagine I would have obliviated you as well, had I gotten the chance.” Blaise nodded.

“I suspected as much. And when you hadn’t had the chance, what was your plan then?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned. It had all gotten out of hand so quickly. “I suppose I would have counted on your discretion.”

“You would have had it.”

Draco looked up, stunned. “Really?” Blaise nodded. “Why?” Draco couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. While the Zabini family had no known affiliation to one side or the other, Blaise was a Slytherin; surely he had his price.

“You paid for the land; what you do with it is not my concern nor is it anyone else’s. Besides, I like her. She’s been good for you. You’re not nearly as obnoxious as you used to be.” Draco was astonished. Not only by what he’d said but the fact that this may have been the most Blaise Zabini had ever said at once in all his years at Hogwarts. He chose to ignore the ‘obnoxious’ comment.

The two were quiet, their silence punctuated by the fire crackling in the hearth.

“So,” Blaise began, “Did you hear about Sunday’s match? Harpies versus the Falcons. Should be interesting to say the least.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco resumed classes the next day, if only to fill the time. He’d taken to sitting by himself in classes, and completely forgoing the Great Hall during meal times, instead taking his meals in the kitchen. The only person he spoke to with any regularity was Blaise, largely because he was the only person that he currently found tolerable. Everyone else wanted to ask him about Laylani’s sudden disappearance. Any time that wasn’t spent in class or in the kitchens was spent in his room.

It was because of this that he’d not been aware of the troubled expression worn by the Headmaster as of late.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Laylani sat with her knees pulled tight to her chest, trying to control her shivering. Her teeth would not stop chattering. She watched, unblinking, as one cold drop of water ran down her nose and dripped onto the stone floor.

It had started, she didn’t know how long it had been. Her windowless cell gave her no sense of time. She had sat there for hours, maybe days in silence, when the door opened suddenly and a spell was whispered, dousing her with cold water and startling a scream out of her. And then it had happened again. And again.

The room was suddenly cold, freezing. A low fog began billowing out from under the door, slowly swirling its way out through the small room. Laylani could only watch as the puddle water around her began to ice over. Her breathing became louder. What was happening? She could feel the coldness creep up her body, along her legs and up her spine, freezing the drops of water that clung to her skin. She shivered violently. It spread out through her chest and arms as it climbed up past her neck and to her hair.

Through the mist Laylani could see the door open, just a bit, and some….thing step inside, that her mind immediately identified as ‘dementor.’

“She’s in there.” A voice snapped bitterly. “Ten minutes, you got ten minutes with her. And don’t touch her!” The door closed, and the hooded figure moved closer. Laylani scuttled backwards until her back was pressed against the wall.

The noise started small, almost like her ears were ringing. But it grew and it grew, louder and louder, until the screams were deafening. It took her a moment to realize that they were her own. She could see herself in her mind’s eye, small and helpless, sprawled out in the flowers as her father breathed his last breath; his blood, his life draining from the open wound to pool around her hands.

Collapsing hard on the stone steps as the slicing spell split the flesh on the back of her knees, maybe eight or nine. She had tried to run and they’d made sure she suffered for it. Each lash of the whip splitting skin across her back, the searing pain. Helpless.

Being forced into an alley way that cold night, no more than twelve. “You want my money? You gotta earn it.” He slurred. His breath had been sickly sweet as he mashed his wet lips against her skin, his hands groping at her chest. He’d forced her to her knees, thrusting himself in and out of her mouth as her eyes watered and she choked for breath. Salty, sticky, foul making her cough as he shoved her away, straightening himself before dropping a twenty dollar bill for her trouble.

He’d cuffed her hard, unexpectedly. Shoving her behind the dumpster into the dark. An angry, angry man. Big and brawny and ready to kill her at only sixteen. “You think you’re too good for me, cheap whore like you?” He hit her again, punched her in the face over and over. Disoriented, she stumbled. Heard her shirt rip, and the heat, Christ! He was burning her. “Just wait; when I’m finished with you they won’t even know you were human.” Hard groping hands everywhere, forcing her legs to part…

Running, hiding, holding her breath in the dark. Cold, so cold and she didn’t know how to swim. Lucius and that awful man, chasing her, trying to take her away.

Draco’s face, cruel and uncaring. “You really didn’t think it possible for me to love someone like you, did you? Did you really think it was possible that I could ever care about filth like yourself? You’re even dumber than I thought.” And his laugh, him laughing at her, echoing endlessly.

“Time’s up!” a man’s voice bellowed, the door swinging open. The dementor receded, floating out and away past the Dark Robe. He looked in on her one last time, managing a bitter laugh as the door shut, leaving her form curled up against the wall, softly weeping in the dark.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been five days, nearly a week¸ and still no word. Albus had known that transferring the Stanners girl to the safe house would have its difficulties; he’d not expected to hear from the Advance Guard right away. But five days seemed like too much time. Surely one of them would have contacted him by now.

Frown deepening, Dumbledore rose from his desk and made his way over to the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he leaned his head in and threw the powder down, calling “Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”

“Remus?” he called, “Remus, are you there?”

“Just a moment, Albus.” Remus came into view seconds later carrying a steaming mug. He seated himself at the kitchen table. “What can I do for you?”

“Tell me Remus, have you heard from Nymphadora?” Remus shook his head.

“No, not since she left.”

“I see.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure. I wonder Remus, if you wouldn’t mind stopping by the safe house, if only to ease an old man’s mind.” Remus stood up, nodding.

“Of course. You’ll hear from me soon.” Dumbledore nodded in return before removing his head from the fireplace, ending the connection.

He returned to his desk, his eyes falling on the whirring silver machinery as his thoughts drifted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus shook of the jolt of the apparition and began walking the narrow path out of the cluster of trees, leading him to the long dirt road towards the cottage. He’d only seen it once before but he knew it thoroughly, inside and out, from Tonks’ childhood recollections. White stone, thatch roof, one story. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting room and a bathroom. Quaint and thoroughly unremarkable, miles away from anywhere.

Ted Tonks had been good enough to offer the location as a safe house, even agreeing to be their Secret-Keeper, when they realized they would be unable to keep the Foreseen Child at Grimmauld Place. It just wasn’t practical to keep her at headquarters’ considering how dangerous she could be, especially when Hogwarts would let out for the summer and Harry and his friends would be about.

He turned off the road and walked up the stone pathway to the cottage door. Leaning against the frame, he knocked twice sharply and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He could hear no movement within the house, no sign that someone was coming to the door, no sign that anyone was there at all. He drew his wand, attempting to disarm the various spells and charms the Order had agreed should be set up to secure the building when he realized they were not in place. He slowly turned the doorknob, the old door opening with a whine of protest.

Cautiously he stepped inside. “Hello?”

The room was dark. He ventured further inside, into the kitchen, to find it neat and orderly. Tonks had definitely not been here. Quickening his pace, he checked the other rooms only to find them empty.

“Damn,” he muttered, rushing towards the door, “Damn, damn, damn!” He ran down the path hurrying to get off the property so that he could apparate. Pausing only to collect himself, he apparated to the grounds outside of Hogwarts.

Any normal man in his situation wouldn’t have heard it, he was sure. But he was no normal man; the lycanthropy had given him the heightened senses of the wolf, allowing him to pick up on the sound uneven breathing and murmured whisper.

“Remus.” He stilled. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out everything but the sounds of that labored breathing. It took him a moment to pick up on it again, but once he did, he could instinctively follow it to its source. He tracked it into the trees.

The smell of rotting flesh hit him hard and he recoiled. The corpse of Elphias Doge lay collapsed before him, flies and maggots feasting on his remains.

“Remus.” Refocusing on the sound of breathing, Remus stepped over the body of his fallen friend and further into the trees.

“Tonks! Oh Merlin, Tonks!” She lay at the foot of an oak tree, her legs at impossible angles. Bone protruded from the skin of her left calf, and maggots fed on the open wound. She was pale and sallow, her hair no longer a vibrant pink but instead a rather mousey brown. Her breathing was shallow, and she seemed to be unable to keep her eyes open.

“Remus.” She said again and her hand, disturbingly cold, settled on top of his. “They’ve got her, Remus. Kingsley, he-” She paused to gasp for breath.

“Shh, don’t talk love.” He pulled out his wand. “Episkey.” Her right leg straightened and healed. He wouldn’t try that on her left, not knowing if the broken flesh could complicate things.

“Does – is anything else broken?” With effort, she pointed to her chest.

“Okay. Alright. I’m going to, going to- Merlin! I don’t know what I’m going to do…” He took a deep breath; this was no time to panic, Tonks needed him. “I’m going to move you, love, into the castle. It’s, it’s going to hurt. Damn...” he trailed off again.

Not knowing what else to do he waved his wand again. “Petrificus Totalus.” Her body became rigid. At least now she wouldn’t feel any pain. “Mobilicorpus.” Carefully, he levitated her body off the ground. Stepping back over the corpse behind him, he slowly maneuvered Tonk’s stiff body through the trees and into the clearing. He would send someone for the body later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She lay on her side, facing the stone wall at the back of the room, tapping her fingers in time to the beat of the dripping water. Laylani had long ago forgotten she was exhausted, hungry and filthy, not that there had been any chance for sleep or food anyways, let alone hygiene. She felt numb, disconnected with a lingering overtone of unhappiness. But that was all; it seemed that was all that was left inside of her.

Their treatment of her had not let up. The cursing, the dousing, that maddening beat of dripping water in the distance. The dementor had returned, she didn’t know how many times; perhaps half a dozen.

She looked up when she heard the unfamiliar creak of a door being opened, tensing as the sounds of footsteps on stone as two in dark robes crossed into her room. She could see their feet in her peripheral vision, two pairs of highly polished shoes.

“Stand up!” The sharp voice cut through the silence as one shoed foot pulled back and kicked at her. Laylani curled up protectively, trying to scramble to her feet as the blows continued. Weak and light-headed, she leaned back against the wall for support as she slid into a standing position.

One Dark Robe, the one closest to her, pulled out his wand and began a series of complicated wand movements, not saying a word, and the chains released from the walls, falling to ground. Laylani hardly had a chance to move when the other Dark Robe slid his wand out of his sleeve and jammed it painfully against her neck.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what would happen if you should become difficult.” Silently, she shook her head. “Good.” His lips twisted into an ugly smile, revealing stained teeth, nearly black, under his white skull mask.

Picking the chain that had connected to her collar to the wall, the Dark Robe wound the loose end around his hand and began to walk towards the door while the other shoved her forward so hard she nearly fell.

“Walk.” He snapped. She stumbled forward, barely able to keep up with the man leading with her ‘leash’ while the other kept his wand pressed painfully against her back.

They led her through a myriad of hallways, the white marble floor cool under her feet. The walls were covered in lavish paintings and tapestries, each depicting important witches and wizards, as well as historic wizarding events: Great battles, conquerors, rulers and dictators. Suddenly, she was both pulled and shoved to the left through a grand archway.

It was like a scene from medieval times, a king holding court over his subjects. A swarm of Dark Robes, dozens, maybe even hundreds kneeling before a tall, pale man seated at a throne. The red carpet leading towards the pedestal felt luxuriously soft under her feet, decadent after her time locked away. She paused at the pedestal, but the Dark Robe holding her chain yanked her forward, up the two steps before the man on the throne. Handing the chain to the pale man, the two robed men stepped back. For a moment, nothing happened.

“Bow before the Dark Lord!”

One of the Dark Robes kicked her hard in the lower back, making her fall forward, barely managing to keep her face from hitting with the marble floor.

The man had held up his hand and she could hear the Dark Robes recede, disappearing into the swarms. The man rose from his throne, kneeling to be at eye-level with her. Laylani slowly sat up to face him. She couldn’t help but face him; his face was almost hypnotizing in its monstrosity. He was so pale, making his red eyes stand out even more. His features were more like those of a snake than that of a man.

“Hello, my dear.”

The voice, she realized. This man, snake, this monster was the whispered voice!

Lord Voldemort.

His, its, lips twisted into a frown.

“It’sssss cusssssstomary to return the greeting, my dear.” The words were sharper this time, innocent words laced with threat.

“H-h-hello.” She managed to breathe. His frown deepened and she hastily added “S-ssir.” The frown receded and he nodded, returning to his seat.

“Come here.”

Knees too weak to stand, she crawled forward to his throne. He pulled the leash hard, guiding her to sit closely at his right. Laylani couldn’t keep herself from shaking. Lord Voldemort set a cool hand on her head, his long fingers twining in her dirty hair. The fingers tightened into a fist, painfully gripping her hair and forcing her head upwards, to look out over the forms of the Dark Robes, bowing in subservience. Over the beautiful white marble, the fine tapestries, into the halls of what was surely a palace. His grip relaxed and he began to pet her, gently running his hands over her hair and along her cheek.

“In time, when you prove that you are worthy,” he said softly, “All thissss will be yourssss, and more. I shall give you the world at your feet.”

Despite herself, Laylani found herself leaning in to his cold touch. She couldn’t help it. It was the first kindness she’d received in days.






extra a/n: since someone asked, i do indeed have a mailing list for updates. if you would like to be on it, or removed from it, whichever, just send me a note at princess_tygris@hotmail.com.