#ilvermony

~*~ That evening, I’m sitting in the living room. Sam had ventured off into the woods hours ago, and tired of cleaning, I’ve decided to read. The office is where all the good books are kept, and I’ve found an old copy of Pride and Prejudice.  When Malfoy comes home, he does indeed do what he normally does, goes upstairs. But instead of going into his room, he barges into mine. I jump up from my seat curled on the couch and follow him. I find him digging through the wardrobe.  “What-“ I start to ask. He throws a silk dress at me. I quickly hold it up before me, my eyes widening.  “Put that on,” he says, and begins to leave. He pauses at the door. “The Dark Lord requests your presence.”  “Oh,” is all I can manage to say after a moment through the panic washing over me.  “I’ll be downstairs.” With that, he closes the door.  With shaking hands I hold up the burgundy dress he wants me to wear. Terror runs through me as I realize it’s not even a dress. It’s practically lingerie. Even after I finish tying the wrap skirt under the bust, I feel naked. The spaghetti straps are tight on my shoulders because of the weight of my breasts in the cups. I’ve never worn anything like it before. For shoes I find a pair of simple flats. I leave my glasses on the night stand. As much as it pains me to leave them, I didn’t have them before, and it wouldn’t be good to have anyone questioning them. When I go downstairs, I expect Malfoy’s eyes to be averted, or if he is looking, I expect it to be in disgust. Dressed in this, I’m sure I must be a sight. His eyes are on me immediately upon my arrival into the living room. They trail over my bare shoulders down to the lace v-neck. I blush, knowing with one good jostle they’d be popping out for all the world to see.   He clears his throat. “Did you miss the heels I picked for you?” he asks curtly. I raise my chin and keep my arms at my side, fists clenched. “I did,” I calmly respond, my eyes on the ceiling. I’m the one having a hard time looking at him while dressed like this. “But if you wish me to remain upright and not fall flat on my face every few steps, you won’t make me wear them.” He considers for a moment before sighing heavily. “So be it.” I follow him outside to the gate. He grabs my arm, fingers pressing into the tattoo, and pulls me through the barrier. There’s a flash of heat as he does so, and then it’s gone. Without letting go, he Disapparates us. We arrive in the village that sits outside Hogwarts that I don’t remember the name of. I’m struck by a cold wind and I hold my arm up over my breasts to hide that my nipples were now poking through the thin material. Without thinking, a warming sensation comes out of my chest, washing over the rest of me. I try to hold in my shock. Did he do that? No, he didn’t say anything. Was it me? I’m shocked when I remember it’s been a few days since my last magic suppression potion. Maybe I’d been so preoccupied with keeping busy that I hadn’t noticed my magic slowly coming back. What a fucking moment to realize that. I take a deep, steadying breath as we walk through the gates of the small village. There’s frost spread across the ground like it was a crisp morning. I can see my breath. Shadows are moving across the ground overtop the frost, something under the moonlight. I look up and gasp, nearly stumbling in terror at seeing thousands of Dementors flying above us. I’d only seen them from a distance during the battle, so when one swings down to hover near us, I press towards Malfoy. “Stay still,” he orders, his grip tight on my arm. The Dementor’s mouth is open towards me, sucking at the air and my essence. Malfoy stares directly into the Dementor’s hood. This seems to be enough for the Dementor to retreat back up into the air with its companions. He doesn’t have to tug very hard to get me walking again. I stay close by his side as we walk through the gates leading up to the castle. We pass Death Eaters in pairs of two guarding the edge of the forest, nodding to Malfoy. I’m grateful they don’t make a comment on me or my appearance.   Scattered about the dry grassy areas are smoldering burn piles, the smell of overcooked pork hangs in the air, and it’s not until we pass close by them that I see blackened limbs and skulls. Tears fill my eyes. I feel like I should look away, but I can’t bring myself to. Two hooded guards stand at the front steps of the castle, and I keep my eyes down as we pass. The Great Hall looks nothing like when I first arrived here with Bill and Fleur from their cottage on the beach over a week ago. Among the remaining rubble is a skeleton of a toothless basilisk, I assume it’s the one I remember hearing about when I first met the Golden Trio. He must’ve destroyed the rest of its venom teeth. It lines the room as seating for Death Eaters.   At the front of the Hall, Voldemort sits on a throne of bones. His wand, the elder wand, is gripped tight in his white hand. His eyes narrow as we approach. Malfoy stops us before him, making us kneel in a puddle of sticky dried blood. While he bows his head, I stare up at the monster on the throne, seeing him in person for the first time. “Melisa Alder,” he spat. My heart rate rises as at the correct pronunciation. Who’s mind had he been into that he heard it correctly? “Come all the way from America to defeat me.” He stands, coming down from his throne to circle me like a vulture about to descend for his prey. I stare at the floor in front of me, waiting for him to stop, prepping my mind for the assault I know is coming. With my returned Occlumency, I block every single thing I know about Horcruxes, about his Horcruxes. Hiding my reason for traveling to a whole new country to defeat him and to avenge Sam. I hide my important memories behind twisted copies of them, imagining false narratives meant to look like the real thing. Instead of the need to find and kill more Horcruxes, in its place is a drive to simply defeat evil. An inflated sense of self-importance of my abilities that drove me across the ocean to join the fight. I found the Golden Trio on accident, and I’m here just because. “Look at me, mudblood,” he demands, and I obey, my hazel eyes meeting his blood-red ones. Immediately, the assault begins. Voldemort rips through my mind, bringing forward the exact memories I knew he would search for. He almost loses interest when he comes up empty, finding nothing to lead from one memory to the next, but when he sees me doing wandless magic, he focuses on that. It carries him through most of my life, he only pauses to watch the moments where I’ve displayed incredible magic. Like transfiguring my parents car into a boat mid-air on the rainy summer night we drove off a bridge into water or smothering a fire that had engulfed our dorm during my third year at school by making the oxygen disappear from the air around it. The only memory I’m surprised he looks at is where I’m 14, in the mind of a classmate, making him forget that I had asked him out and he had turned me down so we could keep being friends without things being weird. The embarrassment of him seeing it makes me slip, my Occlumency pushing him out. Realizing this, he forces himself back in and slashes the memory apart until it doesn’t exist. He makes the attack painful, and I hear the echo of my scream when he finally leaves. “You need to strengthen your magical suppression potion, Malfoy,” he hisses, white lips curling to reveal yellow rotting teeth. The hand still gripping my arm tugs me off balance from my kneeling position and I’m forced to steady on Malfoy himself. His free hand cups my jaw, fingers digging painfully into my cheeks. My eyes are wide as I take in his face this close. It’s furious. “You dare embarrass me in front of our Lord?” he seethes. With a hard shove, I get slammed into the cold stone floors. When I look back, Malfoy has his head bent towards Voldemort, apologizing profusely for not being more diligent. He sighs in annoyance, waving his hand so Malfoy may stand. “I’m not interested in your apologies. Just see that she is suppressed properly. Have you taken her?” “Not yet, my Lord,” he replies. He turns his head, lifting a brow towards me. My head aches as I stare into his cold eyes. A blush rises to my cheeks. “It’s been difficult finding the stomach for it.” Voldemort cackles. “Obviously.” He waves his hand again, speaking to everyone. “Leave, I need to speak with Malfoy on private matters.” The audience of Death Eaters quickly clamber out. A nameless one pulls me to my feet, holding me back as Malfoy approaches. Malfoy yanks the hair at the back of my head, tilting my face up, and a small unwilling whimper escapes. He upends a vial into my mouth and shoves my jaw closed. The hand on the back of my head coming around to pinch my nostrils, forcing me to swallow the minty potion. “I’ll come collect her,” Malfoy says, turning back to Voldemort. The Death Eater and I are one of the last to leave the large room, and I hear “the blood traitor” as the doors close behind us. The Death Eaters weren’t waiting in the corridor. I guess they’ve dispersed to their quarters, this evening’s festivities over. My guard brings me over to the stairs leading to the rest of the castle, and forces me to sit. I slide out of the way to sit with my back to the cold wall. Surprisingly, the young guard sits down on the step in front of me, too. He doesn’t have a mask, so I can see his brown eyes clearly as they slide over me. I look down, eyes widening at all of my exposed cleavage. Sitting like this, most of my left thigh is exposed as well. I pull the wrap closed as much as I can and cross my arms over my chest, cradling my breasts. It kind of hid them, but it also gave them more cleavage. He continues staring for a few lengthy minutes. “The fuck are you looking at?” I ask, forcing my voice not to shake. “We all thought Thomus was mad when he bought you,” he says, chuckling. “I wonder if he’d mind if we all took a turn when he was done… Quite enough of you to go around isn’t there?” He reaches out and twirls a lock of hair from my collar around his finger, fascinated. “I’ve never seen hair as pink as this.” “If you wanted to fuck her,” Malfoy says, startling us both, “you should have bid on her, Montague.”  I look over, amazed to feel relief wash over me. Montagues hand disappears and he shoots to his feet.  “I was only looking,” Montague says.  “Refrain from looking in the future.” Malfoys voice is ice as he looks up at us. Montague glares at him, but doesn’t say anything smart. He simply turns on his heel and continues up the stairs. I wait until he’s out of sight before looking at Malfoy. He’s already looking at me, eyes and expression closed, but not unkind. He offers his hand. Compared with the evil that was just in my head, this confusing handsome man was actually inviting. To say I ran to him is a bit of an exaggeration, but nonetheless we were out the front door in a flash. With my arms still hugging my chest as we walk through the burnt grounds, I shiver in the night air, thoughts and body cold. I jump when he places his warm black cloak around my shoulders. I pull it closed, breathing in the smell of cedar and pine. The fabric drags on the ground behind us.