Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower's sons.
"This is our stop", he whispers before taking a step back and getting out of the rail cart.
Shaking your head, you quickly follow after him in fear of losing him in the crowd of something.
After getting out of the underground and walking for a short bit, you arrive at your destination. Your eyes fill with glee and you bounce on the balls of your feet. "A film theatre?! Oh, Theo! How awesome is this?"
You've always wanted to go to a muggle film theatre, but you were never allowed. But now, with Theo, it could be your little secret together.
Theodore smirks and holds the door open for you. "I thought you would like it. I already got the tickets, so if you want something to snack on?"
"Do you want to share a popcorn bucket?", you ask and turn towards the boy with a beaming smile. He nods and motions for you to get to the register. He orders the popcorn and slaps the money needed onto the counter. When you suggest paying him back, you get a stern glare that says enough.
Theodore lets you take the lead and makes sure you're in the seat nearest the middle. To be fair, he doesn't give a shit about muggle films — or muggles in general. But seeing you smile and shine brightly on the ride to the theatre and when you realised you were going to watch a film... he would give up his magic for that.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
After the film — Jumanji — finishes, Theodore makes sure you're floo-flamed home safe. All the while to the Floo Network you're excitingly bouncing up and down the streets, recalling the story to Theodore. He just smiles and shakes his head, occasionally pulling you to the side so you don't bump into people, trash bins, or cars.
And when you appear in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, you're still chattering away.
"And when that drum came! I felt it in here!" You press a hand to your stomach. "And how they did the effects! Do you think they used really monkeys and lions?"
Theodore runs a hand through his hair before placing a hand on your shoulder. "Who knows, maybe it was magic all along that they have the muggles believe it's special effects." He leans closer and softly presses his lips to your forehead. "I'll see you sometime, right?"
With your face heated up like coals, you nod. Theodore turns around to enter the Floo Network to go back home. "Theo wait!"
He turns around with raised eyebrows. You pull him towards you by his sleeve and give him a small kiss on his cheek, right below his birthmark. "Thank you for everything, Theodore. I really appreciate it."
The dark-haired boy, whose cheeks are almost Gryffindor red, gives you a shy smile and disappears into the fireplace. He is gone with green flames and a call of his home address.
You turn around with a bright smile and warm cheeks, but it falters as you see your aunt and uncle standing in the opening of the entrance hall, solemn looks on their faces. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"The Dark Lord wants to see you", is the only thing Uncle Lucius says before he turns around and walks, presumably, to where your father is waiting for you.
Glancing at Aunt Cissy, you hope to get some information about what is happening from her. But the duo-tone-haired woman looks at the marble floor.
You follow after your uncle. Everything points to having this great day ruined. You can feel it. Can't you just have one day where everything is all right and happy while at Malfoy Manor?
Entering the large dining room, you see your father standing with his inner circle. A figure with its head covered by a bag sits at the foot of one Death Eater.
"My Heir."
A shiver runs up and down your spine in the almost whisper-like way he says it. "My Lord."
He motions for you to come closer. And when you stand next to him, he flicks his wand and the figure gets dragged in front of the two of you. You eye the person warily but keep your face as passive as possible.
"As my Heir, it's important that you follow in my footsteps. And as you are old enough to court the young Master Nott, you are old enough to prove yourself."
A frown forms on your face. Old enough to prove yourself? For what?
The bag gets ripped from the figure's face and you can't suppress the gasp that leaves you. It is one of the nice clerks at the diner you stop by sometimes when you need to escape the manor. He is bruised, and bloody, and has obviously been put through hell and back.
Voldemort wraps two claw-like hands around your shoulders, making sure you can't escape. "As much as I desire you put an end to this pathic muggle's life, I recognise you are not ready for that yet. You've been raised by minds not like our own, and you have to be moulded."
A cold hand slides down your arms and presses something into your hand. Your wand.
"Go ahead. Perform the Cruciatus Curse on this filthy Muggle."
He... no! He can't be serious, right?!
You look up with big eyes and a trembling jaw. "I... I don't know... I don't know how to pref--" You can't even finish your sentence with the shock you're in. You can't crucio somebody! You don't have the will to ever inflict that horrible curse on somebody. Let alone someone innocent!
"Then...", Voldemort raises his wand with a flourish, "let me demonstrate. Crucio!"
A green flash hits you. The pain is so intense, so all-consuming, that your legs can no longer support your body. You drop to the ground, writhing in pain. White-hot knives pierce every inch of your skin, and your head feels like it is going to explode with pain. You are screaming more loudly than you've ever screamed in your life.
The agony stops after a while, and you lay drained on the floor. All your energy has disappeared from your body.
"Get up!", hisses the Dark Lord.
Pushing yourself up with shaking arms, you stumble onto your feet. You are going to collapse any second, you are sure of it. You don't know if you survive another hit.
Gasping and rasping, you raise your wand to the poor clerk. He shakes violently his head, tears streaming down his face. His pleas and cries transform into screams and cries of agony when you do as you are told.
You muffle your own sniffles and drop your hand next to your side, an iron grip on the wood.
The Dark Lord looks satisfied at your curse. "Very well, my Heir."
With one swift Avada Kedavra and the clerk drops dead. A petrified and pained look on the poor man's face.
Turning towards you, Voldemort grabs his wand — the tip is still scalding hot — and presses it against your underarm. You scream, feeling the burning seep into your skin and flesh, twirling around and nestling. You feel something enter you. You throw your head backwards, your spine arched, your mouth and eyes wide open.
Satisfied, Voldemort pulls back and you drop to the ground. Violated, you curl into a ball and clutch your arm.
You look down at the black snake in your skin. Until the end of time, you're officially a Death Eater and there is no going back. You're one of them now and nobody could help you. Not even if they wanted to.
