Betrayal of the Black

chapter sixty-nine

"Comparing me to my father in this instance is odd, considering he was wrongfully imprisoned," she mused. "Also, hadn't the Dementors abandoned their post at Azkaban to work for Voldemort?"

A few of the papers that had been littered on his side of the table, which she hadn't bothered to read knowing that it was what they had wanted her to do, fluttered to the ground when Orson shot up. He pointed a finger at her, but no words were given the chance to escape his mouth. A voice resounded through the room, clearly a superior of Orson's.

"Thornton, take five. We've got some new information."

Angry, but clearly not disobedient, Orson gathered up the documents and left the room. Finally alone again, she let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. She knew she must still be getting watched, but at least she were getting a short reprieve from them talking her ear off.

While the Ministry had managed to reform itself within a day, it clearly seemed their best employees were busy with other things. Unless Orson were acting this way on purpose, and were hoping that he'd annoy her into a confession. Given a few more hours, if Theo hadn't been trapped inside her head, it might've worked.

Sorry, she apologised. They started yelling at me again. This is so annoying.

How much longer do you think they'll go on for?

Merlin only knows. I hope Regulus and Draco are doing okay, she answered.

There was a full glass resting on the table within arms reach. It was a surprise it hadn't toppled over in Orson's earlier tirade. They'd offered it to her fairly earlier on in the interrogation, but she had politely declined. In the end, they'd left it within reach as an open offer. On a good day, Celestia barely trusted the Ministry. During the aftermath of Voldemort's death, of which she was complicit in and many other murders, she wasn't willing to test if they'd taken a chance. She doubted it, though, after the scandal of Sirius's false imprisonment. But she wouldn't risk it.

Theo's voice drew her back into her head. I'm sure Regulus is fine. He's been preparing for this possibility for the past eighteen years, he assured. And Draco had Lucius as a father; he won't be saying anything.

I know, but. . .

Anxiety was running rampant inside of her, and there wasn't much she could, confined to a room like this, to stop it.

She skimmed a thumb across the metal cuff around her wrist. They were a regular pair of handcuffs, at least appearance-wise. It was currently quelling her magic. She could take the loss of magic. She was just glad they weren't a set of shackles.

Her thumb began to rhythmically tap against the cuff encircling her left wrist. The cold metal drew her back down to the present with ease. A soft puff of breath escaped her lips. It were one of the only sounds in the room, accompanied by the occasional jangle of the handcuff chains keeping her restrained to the table

Exhaustion weighed down her limbs. She ended up crossing her arms over the table, using them as a poor excuse of a pillow. It wasn't like she was actually going to be able to sleep in a place like this, and she was sure Orson wouldn't even give her the chance, but it granted her a small reprieve. It was a display of vulnerability to anyone who may still be watching, but no longer did she want to put up an act. She just wanted to go home.

She prayed they would let her go home.

Where home was location-wise, she wasn't really sure anymore. She supposed it just needed to have her friends in it. Any building could become a home if they were there.

Relax, darling, soothed Theo, undoubtedly sensing her nerves. After she'd done her best to temporarily quench their connection during her short faked death, their bond had returned with double the force. She couldn't so much as blink wrong without him catching on. And that truly said something when they weren't even in the same room.