the devil's redemption [tom r.]

49|| Property of Gellert Grindelwald.

One misstep, you're mine

And you better stay clever if you wanna survive

Once you cross the line

You'll be wishing you would listen when you meet your demise

Your heart hits like a drum

The hunt has just begun

~Monsters by Ruelle

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THE PRICK DRAGGED HER away from the crowd without a word said to her. His grip on her arm was tight and anything but friendly, and he disapparated with her without any previous warning. Rosalind was glad she didn't get splinched.

The french blonde had expected to end up in the same prison she'd been in the past summer. But she knew that apparating to a different country could be risky, so she didn't question him as he led her through a gloomy alley.

The place looked dark and chilly, despite summer almost rolling by. The aura in that alley left Rosalind shivering – it wasn't because of a normal chill during the cold days, it was something entirely different. Rosalind could easily pinpoint that feeling. It smelled like death, for some weird reason, just like the graveyard where Willow had been buried. She shook her head absentmindedly, she shouldn't be thinking about that now.

She figured they were still in England, because the askew signs hanging above the dingy shops were all in the English language.

"Where are we?" She inquired hesitantly, and he left her question lingering in the air for a few moments before answering.

"Knockturn Alley." She'd never been to that place.

To her utter disgust, Vandalov slipped his hand into hers, then yanked her to a shop with the name hanging above: Borgin and Burke's.

The wooden doors swung open with a nudge of the Bulgarian's hand, and they both entered with her trunk dragging behind. He placed a few galleons on the owner's desk, the man only gesturing with his head to a frail-looking staircase. He was gruff and balding, a pipe hanging sloppily between his lips. No words were exchanged at all, and they went up the creaky stairs to an office, the owner following behind. She wondered if he knew where Vandalov was taking her, and she considered that's how the prick had come from Austria to England in the first place.

He grabbed a handful of floo powder before they walked into an ashy fireplace, which seemed too tiny for her and the bulky guy beside her, but of course he wouldn't trust her enough to leave her on her own. She didn't blame him exactly, but then again, she threw herself to Grindelwald without any objection. Why would she decide to escape suddenly?

"Grindelwald's office, Nurmengard, Austria!" he exclaimed, enormous green flames submerging them as fireplaces bolted by.

She stepped out of the chimney, her head spinning but she had a feeling it wasn't just because of their means of transportation.

The Bulgarian prick straightened out his dark robes, making sure not to leave a crease behind. She immediately recognised the infuriating room, her eyes flitting to the spot where her uncle had been murdered. The thought left her with a heavy heart.