A Hand is Not a Heart

Tasks & Lessons

They were seated in the same room they had sat in when Voldemort had come up with the name 'little crow' for her. Only this time he didn't offer her alcohol. And this time, she felt a little less anxious then before. For now she had a husband. A husband who cared about her well-being.

"I never properly congratulated you on the successful completion of your mission. You must be very proud of yourself, little crow." Voldemort said as he magically filled a glass with a strange looking liquid.

Petronella sat stiffly on the sofa, following his every move. "Oh well it was nothing really... anyone from your inner circle could have done that." She responded, smiling forcibly.

Suddenly there was a wand against her throat. It pressed against her soft skin threateningly. She looked up at the Dark Lord anxiously but refrained from making a sound. Anguish was all she felt. Had he discovered she was a fraud? Did he somehow find out that she wasn't with child? Or did he know she has been healing the students of Hogwarts?

"Modesty is not a quality an apprentice of mine should aspire to have. You insult me... and yourself. Do not do that again." He hissed.

She swallowed. Then sighed quietly in relief. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn't mean to offend you." Her big eyes looked at him pleadingly, attempting to bewitch him into forgetting what he was angry about.

It worked. The Dark Lord removed his wand from her throat and sat down next to her. "Good... good." He muttered.

She felt his eyes on her. He watched her. Then he took a big gulp from his drink before talking again. "You look good... very healthy... Severus has taken great care of you." He said, his finger reaching for her face. He didn't touch her though. It was just possibility that seemed to intrigue him. The anticipation. The way predators play with their prey before killing them.

"He has grown fond of you... hasn't he?" Voldemort asked as his finger barely missed her chin.

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. "I suppose."

"One could even argue that he loves you..." Voldemort said, leaning back on the sofa.

"He doesn't." Petronella stated, turning her face towards the intimidating man.

Voldemort paused for a moment, seemingly in thought.

She took this as an opportunity to wonder where this conversation was headed. It surely didn't seem like it was going anywhere right now. And it made her long to be at home. At Hogwarts. Preferably in her husband's bed.

"Ahh yes... of course... still not over Lily... I remember." He suddenly said. "He is a very devoted man... one of the qualities that makes him such a loyal servant." Petronella could tell that he loved displaying his power. He was a king and the rest of them merely his servants.

But the words he spoke did pique her interest. "Lily?" She frowned. "Who is she?"

He chuckled. "Was, dear, was." The name seemed to be amusing to him. "Silly girl she was. Wouldn't move out of the way for me to kill her son. Well... she did buy him seventeen years of life. And now they're both dead."

Petronella felt sick. He talked about killing people as if they were bugs. As if they were parasites in need of being squashed. She knew who he was talking about now. Harry Potter. Once the boy who lived. Now the boy who died. And this Lily he mentioned must have been Harry's mother. Which meant... which meant Severus had been in love with Harry Potter's mother. And she had died at the hands of Voldemort himself.

She understood now. She understood how deeply hurt her husband was. She understood why he couldn't give her his heart. For if she looked deep within herself, she knew she hadn't healed from Cedric's death herself. And she wondered if she ever would.