
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12517784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Astoria_Greengrass/Draco_Malfoy, Antonin_Dolohov/Astoria_Greengrass
  Character:
      Astoria_Greengrass, Antonin_Dolohov, Yaxley_(Harry_Potter), Draco_Malfoy,
      Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy, Bellatrix_Black_Lestrange, Selwyn_
      (Harry_Potter), Travers_(Harry_Potter), Death_Eater(s), non_canon
      characters_-_Character, Severus_Snape, Walden_Macnair, Thorfinn_Rowle,
      Avery_Jr._(Harry_Potter), Non_Canon_Death_Eaters, Voldemort_(Harry
      Potter), Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley, Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter
      Characters, Jugson_(Harry_Potter), Theodore_Nott, Nott_Family_(Harry
      Potter), Nott_Sr._(Harry_Potter), Blaise_Zabini, Mulciber_Jr._(Harry
      Potter), Alecto_Carrow, Amycus_Carrow, Fenrir_Greyback, Gabrielle
      Delacour, Kingsley_Shacklebolt, Rodolphus_Lestrange, Original_Veela
      Character(s), Silas_Norton, Elizabeth_Nott, Josaiah_Zabini, Zabini_Family
      (Harry_Potter), Adelaide_Yaxley, Drisella_Selwyn, Dashiell_Selwyn, Selwyn
      Family_(Harry_Potter), Greengrass_Family_(Harry_Potter), Delphi_(Harry
      Potter), Malfoy_Family_(Harry_Potter), Carrow_Family_(Harry_Potter),
      Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Male_Character(s), Walter_Selwyn,
      Foreign_Characters_-_Character, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added, Veela_
      (Harry_Potter), Theodore_Nott's_Sister, Neville_Longbottom, Dementors_
      (Harry_Potter), Nagini_(Harry_Potter), Hestia_Carrow, Fleur_Delacour
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Sex, Rough_Sex, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Rape, Implied/Referenced
      Rape/Non-con, Abuse, Alcohol, Emotional_Manipulation, Emotional/
      Psychological_Abuse, Rape_Aftermath, Vaginal_Sex, Public_Sex, Forced
      Orgasm, Forced_Marriage, Forced_Pregnancy, Forced_Prostitution, Not_Canon
      Compliant, War_Crimes, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Sexual_Content, Implied
      Sexual_Content, Sexual_Violence, Sexual_Abuse, Sexual_Obsession,
      Obsession, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Older_Man/Younger
      Woman, Psychological_Torture, Crazy, Aged-Up_Character(s), Original
      Character(s), Mutilation, Non-Consensual_Oral_Sex, Suicidal_Thoughts,
      Suicide_Attempt, Unplanned_Pregnancy, Murder, Drug_Use, Drugs, Drug
      Addiction, Childbirth, Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Domestic_Violence,
      Slavery, Sexual_Slavery, Explicit_Language, Dominance, Decapitation,
      Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse, Forced_Relationship, Forced_Servitude,
      Dark, Minor_Character_Death, Death, Opium, Graphic_Description_of
      Corpses, Torture, Blood_and_Gore, Blood_Drinking, Blood_and_Torture,
      Bloodlust, Vampires, War, Brutality, Brutal_Murder, Sadism, Castles,
      Aristocracy, Gore, Evil, Wizarding_World, Wizards, Wizarding_Traditions,
      Muggle/Wizard_Relations, Wizarding_Politics, Wizarding_Wars, Child_Death,
      Child_Murder, Dragons, Killing, Twisted, Sexual_Fantasy, Female
      Ejaculation, Pureblood_Culture, Purebloods, Pureblood_Society, Pureblood
      Politics, Humiliation, Beauxbatons, Cunnilingus, House_Elves, Evil_Twins,
      Gang_Rape, Debauchery, Genocide, Alternate_Universe_-_Voldemort_Wins,
      Pureblood_Supremacy
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-27 Updated: 2018-03-21 Chapters: 31/? Words: 149720
****** The Caged Butterfly ******
by ShadowUnicorn666
Summary
     This story is about Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy and how they
     came to be married. But the road for them being together will be
     dark, dangerous and full of suffering. The Dark Order have conquered
     Britain and Harry Potter remains elusive. Narcissa has nudged Astoria
     into joining the Death Eaters after her Father’s death and she is now
     effectively in forced servitude to Voldemort and his Death Eaters,
     grudgingly participating in their brutal and sadistic war crimes
     under the threat of being killed. This brutal world of rape, torture
     and murder is set over the backdrop of the decadent and devious world
     of the Pure Blood Aristocracy.
     *This starts around the time of The Half Blood Prince/Deathly Hallows
     and beyond, spanning over a number of years.*
Notes
     My other inspirations for this piece are the the Serbian wars, ISIS
     war crimes and general violence towards women in war. I decided to
     age Astoria up a bit, making her in the same year as Draco and Harry
     Potter at Hogwarts.
***** I. - Solitude *****
Chapter Summary
     Disclaimer: all the magical characters and the world they live in
     belong to JK Rowling and her publishers/producers. I also take
     inspiration from George R.R Martin, owner of ASOIAF/Game of Thrones
     (This is NOT a crossover). Any similarities between this work and his
     own also belong to George and his publishers. This work is written
     purely for entertainment purposes for the online fan fiction
     community, not profit.
     Warning: this gets VERY dark, it probes the worst depths of humanity,
     and there is a lot of rape and violence, so if this isn’t your thing,
     please stop reading now. I haven't really seen anything with regard
     to an Antonin Dolohov/Astoria Greengrass relationship out there yet,
     so I'm curious as to how it will be received. I'm always open to
     constructive criticism/feedback :)
Astoria Venus Greengrass awoke early on that Thursday morn. She kicked back her
silk bedsheets and thick feather duvet to get up and stretch, catlike, as the
sun shone on her naked skin. Mary was not in attendance, but that was not
unusual given the hour. Mary was one of the serving maids at Malfoy Manor,
originally drafted in when the Malfoy's had lost their House Elf, Dobby.
Narcissa had bemoaned this bitterly, maids were held in distain by those with
old family gold. It was only true Pure Bloods who had House Elves to attend
them and maids were very much seen as something that 'upstart' 'new gold'
wizarding families indulged in. However, the House Elf population had
diminished greatly this past year, chiefly due to the Death Eaters newfound
zeal of tormenting and slaughtering them for sport. Astoria's own House Elf,
Iddi remained at Greengrass Palace, forbidden by ancient magic to leave its
walls to ensure that the Palace did not fall into disrepair. However, due to
the influx of Death Eaters now coming and going out of Malfoy Manor, Mary and
five other serving girls now attended to their needs and wants, as well as the
upkeep of the Manor itself. Narcissa was not about to do it herself after all.
 
As a Pure-Blooded witch, Astoria was entitled to her own handmaid, which came
in the form of Mary. Astoria was fond of Mary, and was intrigued by her often
upbeat disposition. Despite all Mary had suffered, she still seemed to have
hope that things would one day get better. Her company made life at Malfoy
Manor just a little less strange and frightening. Mary was young and pretty,
with big blue eyes and luscious dark hair. Indeed, she was not too many years
older than Astoria herself, no older than twenty years. Astoria was at a loss
of what to do, so she padded over to the large, gilded mirror on the eastern
wall. She stood there, taking in her appearance. Her eyes automatically found
the ugly skull and snake burned into her inner left forearm. It was now
permanently black and often prickled every now and again, even when it was not
burning for a summons. How she hated it.
 
Astoria looked at her protruding hip bones and ribs. She had always been
slender, but her rapidly thinning figure was beginning to make her look half
starved. It had been beyond her control, however. She had been unable to eat or
sleep properly ever since she had begun to serve the Dark Lord, so deep was her
disenchantment. Despite this, however, no one could argue that Astoria
Greengrass was undeniably beautiful. She had silken hair the colour of honey
that tumbled down well past her waist in a rippling river of loose curls which
complimented her light golden skin perfectly. Her eyes were a piercing lilac, a
rarity only found in the House of Greengrass, even if it was down to centuries
of family inbreeding. Combined with her delicate nose and full lips, she would
have been the envy of any Veela...Men's eyes who found her did not easily look
away. Astoria had been used to male attention ever since she had blossomed into
womanhood upon reaching her twelfth year.
 
Now standing at five feet and nine inches, with large full breasts, a tiny
waist and curvaceous hips, many a man had lusted after her, had even made
betrothal offers to her late Father. Naturally he had shunned them all,
determined to marry her to a Nott or Selwyn. To be sure the choice for eligible
bachelors was minimal in Britain, but Father would have gladly auctioned her
off to some other great family from abroad if they had favourable bloodlines.
Astoria's haughty, solemn manner, rather than to drive men away, only served to
make them pursue her even more fiercely. They all seemed to want to 'conquer'
this mysterious, frosty beauty. Astoria had always been soft spoken and quiet;
with little interest in making friends. At Hogwarts she had disliked the
spiteful and vapid group that Draco Malfoy had presided over, only deigning to
mingle with them to keep up appearances. What had Father always said after all?
 
"Trust no one child, but keep matters cordial, lest they mistrust you."
 
Having said that, Astoria had always been rather fond of Blaise Zabini, whom
was very much like herself, comfortable with solitude and only keeping to the
fringes of Draco's clique. Her reminiscing thoughts then drifted to Draco. No
matter what she may have thought of him in their school days, Astoria now cared
for him very much and longed for his return. When they were not out enforcing
the Dark Lords commands, they would have long walks together through the vast
grounds of Malfoy Manor. They would discuss anything and everything that came
to mind, and although it was risky, it was an inexpressible comfort to Astoria
to have someone to confide in. The tender moments spent with Draco were one of
the only things that kept her going during her darkest hours. To be sure, Draco
could be cruel and stupid, but his truest nature was so much more than that.
Most of his faults were down to his upbringing, not unlike Astoria herself. She
thought that it was this that had brought them so close in the past year. They
both felt alone and afraid, both now questioning everything they had ever been
told, and above all, they both hated being Death Eaters. Indeed, the whole
notion of what it actually meant joining the Death Eaters had horrified and
disillusioned them. The murder of Albus Dumbledore had been proof of that, the
fateful night when everything had come crashing down. She vividly recalled how
Fenrir Greyback had come bursting into the girl’s dormitory of the Slytherin
dungeons, dragging her out of bed and commanding her to dress.
 
When he chose to be, Draco could be kind and gentle, she had experienced it
first hand when she had poured out her heart to him for the first time. He had
listened quietly as she had sobbed into his chest, softly stoking her hair. The
harsh, sneering bravado he projected to the rest of the world was his attempt
at a show of strength. Astoria knew that deep down, Draco was desperately
lonely and behaved in this way to conceal this from others, lest they see his
weakness.
 
Her musings were cut off as there was a rap on the door. "Miss, may I enter?"
called Mary's voice.
 
"You may" Astoria replied. Mary then came through the door with a basket of
freshly laundered robes hovering in front of her. Midnight blue, pistachio
green, lilac and so many more, Astoria’s vast wardrobe had come along with her
from Greengrass Palace after her Father had died. She could no longer take any
pleasure in garbing herself in rich fabrics and colours as she had done before,
those days were over. But she supposed she had to wear something. Mary was
dressed in simple, navy maid’s robes and was quite unabashed by Astoria's
nakedness. Handmaids were used to this, after all. They were involved in some
of the most intimate parts of the lives of the ladies they served.
 
"A bath, Miss?" Mary asked, as she began flicking her wand so that each set of
robes flew into the large, mahogany wardrobe in the adjacent dressing room.
 
"Yes, and I think we shall go with the midnight blue brocade and silver today,
if you please" replied Astoria. "And I will take my breakfast up here this
morn."
 
"As you say Miss." Mary replied.
 
Minutes later Astoria entered the bathing suite, a large room done in white and
pink marble, silver gilt mirrors sparkling in the dim candlelight. She climbed
into the steaming hot water in an elaborate, solid silver bathing tub. The taps
were in the form of snakes, their mouths wide and gaping. She lay there staring
at the carved ceiling as Mary saw to her hair, lost in thought. To be sure,
Astoria hated eating downstairs in the morning room with everyone else. The
other Death Eaters frightened her more than she could say. It was not just the
fear of being cursed, tortured or killed for the slightest misdeed, the
likelihood of one of the men taking her by force was growing by the day.
Indeed, Mary had warned her that this may happen. She had told her of one night
when she was clearing the kitchen, alone, as all the other girls had retired to
the servant’s quarters. There, she was accosted by Mulciber, who proceeded to
drag her into the pantry where he had beaten and raped her for close to an
hour. Astoria had been horrified, but what disturbed her most of all was the
matter of fact way Mary had described it, almost as if she seemed to expect
this kind of treatment. To hear her tell it, she was not the only one this had
happened to either.
 
Astoria suspected that it was only her Pure Blood that had thus far protected
her from this fate. As a shield, it was getting ever weaker; the male Death
Eaters were becoming incredibly scary to be around. Antonin Dolohov in
particular, frightened her more than all the others put together, even more
than the Dark Lord. Dolohov had an evil reputation as a depraved pervert, thug
and a drunk. It was common knowledge that he was always the first to rape and
torture Muggle women before killing them. Why should his own kind be any
different? Indeed, it was whispered that he had a wife some years ago, during
the First Uprising. However, she had disappeared under suspicious circumstances
and was never mentioned in society again. The most consistent rumour was that
he had killed her in a drunken rage, transfiguring her body and dumping it in a
lake. Astoria could easily believe that, Dolohov had the coldest eyes she had
ever seen, not one drop of kindness or remorse in their icy blue depths. Like
Bellatrix Lestrange, he gloried in his horrific acts, nothing giving him
greater pleasure than causing pain and suffering to others. She imagined he had
killed his wife without a second thought.
 
Astoria would always catch Dolohov staring at her avidly whenever he was in
residence, hunger and malice in his gaze. At mealtimes, Dolohov would make sure
he was sat next to or opposite her. He would put his food slowly and
deliberately into his mouth, licking his lips lustfully, a gesture she found
remarkably obscene. Other times, Dolohov would slyly stroke his finger along
her hand, or else grasp her thigh under the dinner table and whisper in her ear
telling her how beautiful she was, all the while leering at her breasts. His
unwanted advances made Astoria sick with fear. When Dolohov's constant
besetting failed to illicit a satisfactory response from her, he would then
take to constantly prowling about after her around the vast Manor, looking, she
suspected, for an opportunity to strike. Once Dolohov had almost succeeded. One
morn, he had silently come up behind her in the drawing room and attempted to
fondle her between her legs. Astoria had jumped violently, knocked Dolohov’s
hand away and ran from him.
 
“Come, sweet lady!” Dolohov had called in a delighted voice as she fled. “I was
just going to make love to you!” He had then laughed loudly. “No, no, I am only
japing, I am going to fuckyou.”
 
 Astoria had escaped through a tapestry, dashed up to her bedchamber and used
the most powerful form of magic she knew to seal her door, heart hammering. She
had not slept that night. Rigid with fear, she had spent the twilight hours
sitting on the window seat, her wand pointing at the door. As if this wasn't
terrifying enough, she had so far been forced to endure the others too:
Yaxley's sly pinching, Mc Nair's obscene suggestions and Rowle's endless hints
about how much he wanted to bed her. They were like a pack of hungry wolves,
all determined to claim her. Severus Snape was the only one that showed little
to no interest in joining in their sport of pestering. Perhaps he was
disinclined towards women and for that she was thankful. She had never liked
Snape at Hogwarts, despite him being head of Slytherin house. He had always
struck her as a cruel and bitter individual who delighted in preying on the
weak. But was she truly any better than he was? They had both chosen the Death
Eater path after all.
***** II. - Regret *****
Chapter Summary
     So this chapter explores Astoria's feelings towards her Father, her
     family history and how she views the world now. There will be a point
     to this story I promise, but I'm someone who likes to 'set the scene'
     as it were. And I like to give a bit of background info on the
     character, otherwise it just feels rushed.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Astoria was brought her breakfast, always far too much than she had asked for
as usual. Boiled eggs, fruit, cheese, fresh baked bread, an assortment of jams
and a large platter of cold meats were presented to her on delicate, snake
embellished silverware. After eating just one boiled egg and sipping a little
wine, she decided to make for downstairs. Astoria navigated her way through the
many richly carpeted corridors of the Manor and at last came to the top of the
grand staircase. She suddenly felt in one of the pockets of her robes, looking
for her wand. It wasn't there. No matter she thought, the serving girls did
practically everything for her anyway, and she could easily send one of them to
fetch it for her if needed. A wandless summoning charm was unlikely to work
from this distance. To be sure, her main duties for the Death Eaters were
surprisingly light for the most part. Apart from half a dozen campaigns or so,
she spent most of her time patrolling the corridors, keeping an eye on the
Malfoy's, compiling 'tip offs' regarding Potter and ensuring that the magical
perimeters around the estate still held.
 
Astoria had never been out on a campaign with the main clutch of the Death
Eaters. She was always sent with others similar to her in age: Draco, Zabini,
Crabbe, Goyle, Nott…practically everyone she had been to school with. Each
campaign was seared vividly into her mind. Astoria recalled when the Dark Lord
had commanded them to burn down a Muggle hospital. The images of burned and
screaming Muggle men, women and children would never, ever leave her. Astoria
shook off these uneasy thoughts and swept swiftly down the many steps, at least
three score of them, the train of her silken blue robes softly whispering on
the marble surface.
 
When she had at last reached the ground floor, she drifted off to the kitchens
with the intention of greeting the other serving maids. They always gave her a
warm reception; always when there was no one around, to be sure. The kitchens
however, were empty. That was queer. Astoria made for the morning room and
glimpsed three of the girls outside feeding a flock of the albino peacocks that
roamed the grounds. She imagined that Mary was still cleaning her bedchamber
and the sixth girl was elsewhere in the Manor, also cleaning, most like.
Astoria checked the drawing room too, half expecting to see Lucius covered in
vomit and sprawled face down in a wine soaked sleep, but again, there was no
one to be seen. She would make for the gardens she decided, perhaps she would
feed some of the flying fish that lived in the bottomless pond.
 
Astoria roamed about the rest of the Manor for a while, looking in on various
rooms and salons. It would be pleasant to escape to the calm and beauty of the
gardens. The ornate, softly splashing fountains and delicate flowers had a
calming, if only temporary, effect on her. As such it was the only place she
truly felt at peace these days, the only place where she did not feel that she
wanted to throw herself from the highest tower of the ancient stronghold that
was Malfoy Manor. Astoria's thoughts then strayed to her Father as she walked
slowly down a cavernous corridor lined with portraits of every generation of
the Malfoy family. She missed him dearly. Hadies Xander Greengrass had been
misguided in many ways but he was still someone to turn to.... someone to love.
 
Father, speak to me.She thought, though she knew her Father's ruthless attitude
towards blood purity and wizard supremacy would sound something like:
 
"You should be proud! I would expect nothing else from mine own daughter!" or
"you should be thankful for the chance of a wholesome, pureblood marriage!"
etcetera, etcetera...
 
Hadies Greengrass had been the richest and most powerful Lord in the Sacred
Twenty Eight and did everything he could to block any laws that would weaken
Pure-Bloods. He was enraged when the Muggle Protection Act had come into force,
sending several Howlers to Cornelius Fudge in protest, spitting with fury.
Astoria grimaced and pushed away these thoughts, knowing how futile they were,
only serving to bring up feelings of intense conflict, grief and shame. She
knew her father was infatuated with Dark magic and downright fanatical with
regard to the old, pure blood ways. "Imperium tua Magnitudo" - "Power is
greatness" were the Greengrass family words after all, she thought with
rancour. Astoria had tried time and time again to convince herself that he was
'noble' and 'a talisman for upholding the family traditions.' However, the more
she was exposed to the real wizarding world outside of the elitist, Pure Blood
one she had always known, the more she had to grudgingly admit to herself that
there was a possibility that the 'old way' wasn't the good way, perhaps it was
even wicked and perverse. Astoria had been in denial however. No matter how
much these doubts nagged at her as she matured, no matter what her distant
misgivings, in the end she had been greedy and stupid. In her sixth year at
Hogwarts she had made the fateful decision to become a Death Eater, helped by
Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa had told her of all the wonderous things she could
accomplish, how she would be helping to make a better world by purifying the
wizarding race, how she would be able to perform magic beyond her wildest
dreams. Thus, giddy at the prospect of increasing her own power to spectacular
levels, and to hell with any 'risk', Astoria had been taken in by the dark
glamour of the Death Eaters. After all, what would she have to fear with
powerful magic at her fingertips and the Dark Lord's most devoted followers by
her side? Her Father had died by then after all, who else did she have? So,
when the time came she accepted her Dark Mark like a good little soldier, never
dreaming how far reaching and terrible the consequences would be.
 
Despite Father's twisted views, whatever else he was, he had been a good
Father, hadn't he? He had on occasion, told her stories as a little girl and
taken her out riding. He was the only parent she had ever known after her
Mother had died when she was just an infant. Father had not been overtly
affectionate, Mother's death had changed him in that respect. Her uncle Apollo
had told her that he had never been the same again after her passing. But
beneath Father's stern facade, she knew that he had loved her more than
anything in this world. Astoria sighed inwardly. In the cold light of day, she
knew it was no good. Father was gone, never to return. Her last shield, her
last protector. Gone. There was no one left to save her, all she had were the
Malfoy's, who had taken her in after her Father's death. Though to be sure,
their intent had mainly been to get their hands on the family gold and match
her with Draco. When she was eleven, she knew her Father had coldly rebuffed
Lucius when he proposed a union between their families. Father's reason being
that there were far too many Half-Bloods befouling the Malfoy family tree, and
that was something he could never forgive. Purity was everything to him, and he
was not about to hand over his precious daughter to a 'tainted' family,
whatever the Sacred Twenty Eight might say. In any case, what real good were
the Malfoy's anyway in her present situation? They were no shield at all and
even if they dared to help her escape, the Dark Lord would kill them all in an
instant.
 
Foolish child, she thought savagely; snapping back to reality. Even if Father
was here, do you honestly believe he would be able to protect you?
 
She knew the answer to that already. No one dared to defy the Dark Lord, no
matter what their families had sacrificed for the cause. Her Death Eater
brother, Alcaeus, had been slaughtered by Alastor, 'Mad Eye' Moody at the end
of the First Uprising when she was barely a year old. She had no memory of him.
A year later her mother, Irina, followed him to the grave. Their deaths fed her
Father's fiery hatred of the Ministry and the Order, she knew. Astoria had
very, very distant memories in the back of her mind of a pretty, lilac eyed
woman bouncing her on her knee, laughing and singing, planting soft kisses all
over her face. Other than that, all she knew of her Mother were the scraps of
information that Father had fed her over the years, combined with the various
photos and portraits around Greengrass Palace. Father always said that Mother
had died of a broken heart at the loss of Alcaeus. The rest of the Greengrass
family were also dead and gone. The family tradition of intermarriage had left
many barren or sterile, or else predisposed to miscarriages and still births,
so Astoria had no immediate cousins. Her own parents had been niece and uncle
after all, to keep the bloodlines pure. Even with the introduction of other
Pure Blood families, the line had still dwindled. Astoria had some very distant
relatives in the Sacred Twenty Eight but, in truth, she had no one. She was the
last Greengrass left. The very last. The raw naked truth of that fact crashed
over her at that moment. She did not know why it had suddenly hit her so hard,
but it disturbed her more than she could say.
 
Chapter End Notes
     So I named Astoria's Father Haides as Hadies is a mythological Greek
     God who is King of the underworld. Her Father was the richest and
     most powerful Lord in the Sacred Twenty Eight so I thought it
     fitting. Even though Hadies loves his daughter and family, he is
     pretty evil and cold.
***** III. - The Snake and the Swan *****
Chapter Summary
     *Warning* This is the first chapter rated as Explicit and is rather
     brutal.
     Same disclaimer applies as usual.
Astoria had finally come to the Great Hall, her footsteps echoing on the
magnificent green marble. She hastily brushed away the beginnings of tears and
continued her purposeful stride across the hall. Her lilac eyes swept the
sumptuous surroundings, until she suddenly stopped dead.
 
What was that?
 
Antonin Dolohov suddenly loomed out of the shadows; his long, pale, twisted
face brought into sharp relief. He had clearly been lurking behind one of the
many great pillars that outlined the hall. Astoria flinched, she desperately
wanted to run, but stood her ground and drew herself up to her full height. No
matter what she felt inside, she would not let Dolohov see her fear, that would
only feed his cruelty. Tall as she was, Astoria was still dwarfed by Dolohov.
He was a man of forty years or so, but looked far older. Dolohov's lips were
thin, his nose straight, sharp and pointed with harsh lines etched across his
face. His hair was short, dark and slightly thinning, and he wore it slicked
back from his forehead. Dolohov may have even been reasonably good looking
once, but Astoria supposed that fourteen years entombed in Azkaban had wasted
away any good looks he may have ever possesed, his long, pale face now twisted
with a maniacal fervour. Dolohov stood at over six and a half feet tall, and
despite his age, was heavily muscled and powerfully built with wide shoulders,
like a man of twenty years or so. Dolohov's magic was strong, and he had an
extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts. Wands or no, with her delicate frame and
not being fully qualified in magic, Astoria was no match for him. Dolohov could
have snapped her neck like a twig or destroyed her in a duel if he so chose.
 
"Miss Greengrass" Dolohov said, silkily. He bowed low over her hand and kissed
it firmly.
 
"Mr. Dolohov, good morn to you." Astoria said stiffly. She curtsied
respectfully, but did not dare to even look at one of the Dark Lord's most
loyal servants directly in the face. She felt him looking her up and down.
Feeling compelled to speak and distract him, she went on, "I- I thought I was
alone. Where are the- the others?"
 
"Oh, but you are alone" he said with a soft chuckle. "And do you not think
there are enough of of us?"
 
Astoria inclined her head stiffly and attempted to sidestep him, refusing to
let him play with her like this. "To be sure. If you'll excuse me, I was just
making for the gardens. Let me pass if you please." Dolohov was still
chuckling, shaking his head in amusement; he then reached out to touch her
delicate jaw. He blocked her path, dominating her personal space with his
height and sheer size, towering above her. It made Astoria feel weak and
helpless as a cold bucket of fear rushed over her, freezing her solid where she
stood. Dolohov's gaze was now crawling greedily over the curves of hip, waist
and breast beneath her fine silken robes, undressing her with his eyes the way
he always did. It always gave Astoria that unpleasant feeling as if she were
truly naked, standing there before him. Dolohov suddenly grasped her underneath
the chin, forcing her to look into his empty, pale blue eyes. “Unhand me.” She
said, indignantly, attempting to shy away.
 
Dolohov ignored this and grasped her jaw still more firmly. "I trust you are
aware of the Dark Lord's wishes that all Pure-Blooded witches are to be matched
with suitable husbands once the war is won." Astoria said nothing and tore her
eyes away from that icy glare, so intense that it seemed to burn. "Yes" he
continued softly, "The Dark Lord has been most vociferous on this matter."
Dolohov then lowered his head towards her elegant, swan like neck, taking a
long deep sniff. As he exhaled, Astoria felt her skin prickling, utterly
revolted and barely repressing a shudder. "Mhmm...Lavender and Jasmine is it
not?" he crowed. "A most becoming scent on you, my lady, simply delightful."
Dolohov straightened and leered, his face full of malicious pleasure, clearly
taking huge enjoyment in the distress he was causing her. He moved even closer
so that they were practically touching. "Yes, you must be so pleased" he went
on in that dangerously soft tone, toying with a lock of her honey coloured
hair. "You shall have a wholesome Pure Blood marriage, isn't that what you
always wanted?" Astoria looked up at him and just as quickly looked away. As
she did so, his twisted face split into an awful smile. "That means before long
you shall have a little Pure Blood baby to call your own, won't that be
glorious? Well, preferably a son, but these things happen, don't they?" Astoria
tensed but still said nothing. Dolohov brushed her cheek, his fingers moving
down over her collarbone, caressing her soft, golden skin with longing. His
hand eventually came to rest over her rapidly beating heart, stroking the spot
insistently. Astoria was desperately afraid, still refusing to look at him,
though she could make out his lecherous sneer out of the corner of her eye. "So
lovely. Simply exquisite." Dolohov went on, almost as though talking to
himself. "You look exactly like your Mother, Irina....perhaps even finer" he
murmured, still running his hand through her loose curls. Her flesh crawled
with the intensity of a thousand cockroaches as he began to aggressively grope
at her left breast. His hand then travelled south of her waist and he grasped
her backside, his breathing growing heavier. All Astoria could do was stand
there, paralysed by fear. "The Malfoy boy wants you, that is plain to see"
Dolohov carried on, breathlessly. "But a stunning creature like yourself needs
a man, not a boy. And I suppose..." his voice now dropped to a whisper, his
mouth next to her ear, "As long as we are all Pure Blood, it does not matter
who puts the baby into you, does it?" Astoria was filled with abject horror as
Dolohov began rubbing his hard manhood against her vigorously through his
robes. His breathing became deeper still as his arousal increased by the
second, seemingly out of control. For a moment, the world seemed to balance
itself on a knife's edge. Astoria whirled, desperate to try and get away from
Dolohov's terrible embrace, but in her heart of hearts she knew it was no
good. Ilvolvento!" Roared Dolohov, and Astoria was ripped from her escape at
once. She was dragged by an invisible force into the dining hall, without a
wand she had no way of countering the charm, let alone stopping him. Astoria
had been knocked over by the force of the spell and was now scrambling to her
feet. Dolohov moved menacingly towards her, a crazed, animalistic hunger in his
cold blue eyes. She backed away from him.
 
"Stay away!" Astoria said in a shrill, shaking voice that made her sound even
younger than her seventeen years. "I'll- I'll tell! You c-can't do this. The D-
dark Lord he, he won't, he... you-you knew my Father! How can you do this!? I
am a Greengrass, not one of your common whores, how dare you! Stop this at once
Dolohov, you're scaring me! It is a crime to force a Pureblood witch to-to...
everyone says so...." Her voice trailed away, forcing her into terrified
silence.
 
Dolohov laughed. "The Dark Lord!? The law? Ha! You pretty idiot. Do you truly
imagine he will begrudge me, his most faithful servant, in putting you to your
proper use? Have you never been taught what a woman is for, you little fool?"
He taunted, still laughing. "When we have rid our world of the Muggle scum and
done away with the charlatan Harry Potter, you are going to be my little wife
and be grateful for it"
 
"No!" Astoria screamed fiercely, "never! I will never, ever marry you! Do you
hear me Dolohov?" She went on defiantly, "NEVER!" Astoria was still backing
away down the long dining chamber when she suddenly hit the wall. She was
trapped.
 
"Yes. We shall wed, and we shall breed." Said Dolohov rapturously; moistening
his lips in anticipation as he fondled the bulge between his legs, his enormous
chest heaving rapidly. "The Dark Lord will grant me this, I am certain. I have
served him faithfully and deserve my reward. Until then, however, I mean to
claim my rights." He gave her a lecherous sneer. "I have waited, oh so long.
From the time I first laid eyes upon your visage, I have thought of naught else
but you my lady, and I mean to have you."
 
They were now a foot apart. "Stop!" She shrieked, now hysterical. "Dolohov
please don't! Please stop!" He continued to advance upon her however, ignoring
her pleas, his eyes gleaming with a wild excitement at the prospect of the
prize he was about to claim.
 
As they stood face to face, Astoria's hand lashed out to slap him in a last-
ditch attempt of defiance, but he caught her by the wrist and bent it back
until there was a sickening snap. She doubled over and stifled a scream of
pain, her wrist aflame. Dolohov, taking advantage of this, wrestled her to the
ground. A flick of his wand was all that was needed to keep her pinned down to
the floor, ensuring that she could not put up a further fight. Dolohov knelt
and climbed on top of her, his weight pressing down on her chest so that she
could barely breathe. He grasped her jaw painfully hard with one of his big
hands and thrust his tongue down her throat, his cruel mouth on hers. Dolohov
tasted and smelled like stale mead, it made her gag so badly that she attempted
to bite him. He pulled away, furious, and proceeded to slap her four times;
left to right, then right to left. The blows were so viscous that stars popped
before her eyes and she felt her lip split.
 
As she lay there, dazed, she dimly heard Dolohov say, "I bet you used that face
of yours to get everything you wanted didn't you? You truly are a pampered
little slut. Daddy's not here to save you now. You should remember this lesson
I'm going to teach you. A good wife is obedient and respectful of her Lord and
Master"
 
Astoria's vision was slowly coming back into focus, her head lolling from side
to side. She saw Dolohov unbuttoning the front of his robes.
"No…not…wife…never" she said hoarsely, struggling feebly and in vain against
Dolohov's spell. He looked down at her, a sadistic grin spreading across his
face. "Antonin please! Please stop it! Please!" She begged, her voice breaking,
"I will not tell a soul, I swear!"
 
"As if anyone would care" he sneered. "You are nothing without that Father of
yours, even if he was an empty headed fool. Did he fuck you too just like his
niece? Don't all the Greengrass' ravage each other? I bet he could not resist
spreading those lovely long legs to see what was in between." He let out a bark
of cruel laughter. "But perhaps not. Well do I remember him, he would not have
had the guts, weak and worthless as he was. You should be grateful to be
honored by a real man, you should be thanking me on bended knee, where you
belong." Dolohov then drew out his member. It was an ugly thing, thick and
long, bursting with veins and an angry purple head. This could not be
happening, someone would come in, someone would stop this, she thought,
desperately. The next moment Dolohov was roughly pushing up her robes and
underskirts. He savagely ripped away her delicate lace underwear and garter
belt to reveal everything beneath. She trembled, cold with dread with what was
about to happen to her. Dolohov then shoved apart her legs, tearing her
stockings as he did so, gripping her smooth thighs with iron fingers. She felt
her eyes burning as he began to rub her roughly, panting with excitement. "Such
a pretty little cunt." He breathed. "Honey sweet. Just like a lovely pink rose,
begging to be plucked." I won't cry out, I won't! thought Astoria fiercely, as
Dolohov forced himself inside her with a moan of pleasure. She bit her tongue
so hard she tasted blood as he began to thrust inside her, mercilessly. He
grabbed a handful of her beautiful, golden hair and yanked her head back
violently, biting down hard on her neck. Astoria willed herself to focus on the
dining room ceiling, a painting of a fierce battle of dragons and wizards
wheeling above her, desperate for anything to remove herself from the reality
of what she was enduring. Astoria was still gazing at the mural, trying to
block out the constant groaning in her ear when Dolohov suddenly ripped her
robes right down the middle so that she was completely naked and exposed. He
gave a strangled shout of delight and increased the pace of his thrusting as he
began to maul her breasts with his hands, his mouth, his teeth, puffing and
grunting like a beast. Astoria did her best not to scream in pain, though by
now the tears were running freely down her face. Again, and again, he pumped in
and out of her until his release came upon him. He moaned loudly as he spurted
inside her womb, sweat plastering his dark hair to his face. Astoria merely
laid there, numb, trying to process what had just happened. But her brain
seemed to have jammed and there was a faint ringing in her ears. Dolohov's
breathing slowed and he rolled off of her with a contented sigh and got to his
feet, his twisted face shining with triumph. As Dolohov was buttoning himself
back up he said, "with any luck, I will have planted a son between those legs
today." Astoria could not hold back the tears then, she began to weep
unrestrainedly as she lay naked and battered at the feet of this monster.
Dolohov merely chortled. "But if not, I can always try again, can't I?" He
grinned and swaggered out of the room, the huge, oaken door banging shut behind
him.
 
Astoria did not know how long she wept for. She wept until she thought her head
would burst, until she had no more tears left within her. All the injuries
inflicted by Dolohov made themselves known then and she was in intense pain,
wincing as she attempted to sit up. Her head was throbbing very badly, and as
she gingerly touched the sorest spot, she found that a small part of her scalp
had come away with the hair that Dolohov had torn from her. She looked down
upon at herself. Blood was already starting to dry on her thighs and bruises
were blooming all over her hips, arms and legs. She felt angry wheels on her
neck where he had bitten her and she was certain that her wrist was broken. The
bile suddenly came rushing up her throat and she vomited all over the floor.
Astoria then began to crawl down the dining chamber towards the door, blood and
seed dribbling out of her and her ripped robes hanging off her body. She knew
time was of the essence. She must somehow get to the greenhouse to try to find
some tansy and asphodel in order to brew up some tansy tea, her intention being
preventing a pregnancy. Dolohov seemed to be obsessed with getting a child from
her for whatever, twisted reason. That he would never have, if Astoria
Greengrass had anything to do with it. The thought of carrying and birthing
hischild was utterly repellent to her. She did not think she could bear that, a
permanent living, breathing reminder of what Dolohov had done to her. Astoria
tried to get to her feet, but the world span dizzily and she collapsed onto the
floor. As she fell, she hit her head on the side of the table, and everything
went black.
***** IV. - Tansy Tea *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter will introduce Narcissa Malfoy and also give a bit of
     background information about Mary the serving maid, which will be
     important for later on in the story.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Hours, or maybe minutes later, Astoria was woken by a woman's horrified scream.
Everything that had happened came rushing back to her then. Horrid images
flashed across her mind as the harsh reality slapped her in the face just as
hard as Dolohov ever had.
 
"My god, my god who do did this do you think?" It might have been Narcissa
speaking. This was odd if true as these days Narcissa barely got out of bed;
dulling her misery and fear with 'Healer Helena Gripes Liquid Opium'. "Quick,
quick, someone get her upstairs!" Yes...it was definitely her.
 
Astoria lacked the strength to even open her eyes, so she let whoever was
around her do whatever they were doing. It would change nothing after all. The
next she knew, she was drifting through the air; obviously someone had decided
a gentle hover charm was the best way to move her up the large, sweeping
staircase to her bedchamber. Not too long after she felt someone dabbing her
forehead with a warm cloth. She opened her eyes for the first time in what felt
like forever, her lids heavy and sore. Mary was leaning over her, her face pale
and frightened, her eyes red.
 
"Miss" she said in a cracked voice. "Oh, Miss!"
 
As Astoria took in her surroundings, she recognised that the handsome room was
indeed her bedchamber. She was lying in her plush, empire bed with purple
velvet hangings and gold swirls. The high ceilings were illustrated beautifully
with more depictions of wizarding chivalry. The grand, marble fireplace was
cracking faintly, filling the room with a warm glow. Many ornate urns and
figurines lined the shelves and a magnificent dressing table, gilt in gold,
took pride of place. Her favourite scents were lined up on the table, as were
her family crest jewellery pieces along with jade and jewelled combs and
brushes. Her wand, she saw, dully, was also among the trinkets. She did not
know what use it would have been against the likes of Dolohov, but she had
always had great faith in her wand. It had not failed her yet after all: Aspen,
twelve and a half inches, unyielding, with dragon heartstring as the core. It's
like nothing's changed. Astoria thought, looking at the pretty objects as they
sparkled in the candlelight, unknowing. And yet, everything had changed for her
now. She had been no maid of course when Dolohov had taken her, but that was
scarcely the point. She hazily thought back to the first time she had been
joined with a man. It had been three years ago now. She had surrendered her
virginity to a handsome, blonde seventh year from Durmstrang Institute when the
Triwizard Tournament had come to Hogwarts. It was a small mercy, she thought,
but at least Dolohov could not take that from her. That one precious gift a
woman can only give but once, she thought, with a grim sort of satisfaction.
 
Astoria drew her attention back to Mary. She grasped her wrist with her good
hand. "You must help me Mary" she said in a hoarse voice.
 
Mary looked very scared. "Miss Greengrass I don't think I can-"
 
Astoria cut her off. "Tansy tea" she said urgently. "I need it as soon as
possible and I do not think I need to tell you why."
 
Mary still looked nervous; she was glancing at the door as if afraid Dolohov
would come bursting in at any moment. "You are my only hope" said Astoria, her
voice breaking, "I cannot have his child! I cannot! I beg you, I beg you Mary,
in the name of Circe, please Mary, please!"
 
There was a long pause. Then Mary gave a shaky nod. "I will do my best Miss."
 
"One more thing" Astoria said. "I want a mirror"
 
Mary looked horrified, and for a moment Astoria thought she was going to defy
her. However, Mary turned towards the glittering dressing table and muttered,
"Accio."  The mirror flying into her hand at once.
 
Mary then nervously handed her the golden, hand held mirror encrusted with
emeralds and diamonds, after which she backed out the room. Astoria took a deep
breath and held the mirror to her face… She almost cried out in shock. Both her
eyes were blackened, her lilac, bloodshot eyes peering out dully from the ruin.
There was a gash across her nose and finger mark bruises all over her face and
neck. Her snapped wrist had been mended, but it was still stiff and painful.
Most of these injuries could be fixed with healing charms, but what did it
serve? She thought with disgust. No one would ever want her now, beautiful or
not. She felt filthy, used, worthless and ashamed. Filled with self loathing
and revulsion, she flung aside the mirror where it shattered somewhere across
the room.
 
Not long after Mary had left, there was a tentative knock at the door.
 
"Enter." Astoria croaked, weakly.
 
Narcissa Malfoy then stepped into the room, wearing a green, silk bed robe.
Astoria said nothing. She merely stared at her. Narcissa was looking shocked
and disturbed, as if she was seeing Astoria for the first time. "Dolohov?" She
said in a trembling voice that was barely audible above a whisper.
 
"Dolohov." Replied Astoria in a flat, dead tone.
 
Narcissa's blue eyes shone with tears. "I am so, so sorry" she whispered.
 
Astoria had, in the past, felt some pity for Narcissa, a collateral victim of
her husband’s proclivities for Dark magic she supposed. But no. To hear Draco
tell it, she was exactly like Lucius; a mad fanatic. He was truly a great ruin
of a man, she thought, viciously. A foolish coward who had endangered his
entire family and for what? The Malfoys were now at the bottom of the food
chain, only their Pure Blood protecting them from execution. Indeed, the only
reason the pair of them were so miserable was because they had fallen out of
favor with the Dark Lord. Granted, that was good cause to fear, but Astoria
wasn't in a sympathetic mood.
 
"Oh, you are sorry, are you?" Astoria replied, cold as ice. "Who brought me
here?" She asked, her temper rising and her voice growing louder. "Who allied
themselves with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, convinced me to join them
and hath imprisoned me in this god forsaken hell hole!?"
 
"Dear, you must understand, I-" But Astoria didn't let her finish. She was
shaking with fury.
 
"Understand!? How dare you! You cannot possibly understand what I have just
endured! I have been used and spat out like a fucking brood mare, but oh no!
You want me to understand? Get out!"
 
"Tori, dear, please." Narcissa said in a placating tone.
 
"Do not dare call me that. Get out, get out I say! I do not want to see you
ever again! Get out now or I swear, I shall curse you to within an inch of your
pathetic life! Get out, get out, get out!" Astoria was screaming at the top of
her voice, releasing some of the blind rage and pain gushing from her broken
heart.
 
Astoria did not give a fig who may overhear, what did it matter anymore? She
seized the crystal goblet by her bedside and threw it as hard as she could
towards Narcissa where it shattered on the silken wall. Narcissa lifted up her
hands to shield herself from the shards of glass. As she lowered them, she
looked very scared. Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then turned, and left the
room. Mary returned not too long after, carrying a tray of herbs and potions,
along with her wand. She set the tray on the gilt bedside table and asked,
tentatively, "May I begin, Miss? Some of these -these wounds, may take a little
time to heal." Mary had a Healers background, Astoria knew, but she had given
it up to enter domestic service instead. Mary sat on the edge of her bed, and
reached out, gently to turn her face. At this, Astoria flinched, shrinking back
into her pillows.
 
"I am sorry Miss, I shall do my best, but sometimes I will have to touch here
and there to make sure I get them all, alright?" Astoria gave a shaky nod,
willing herself not to weep. Mary then began doing all sorts of complicated
movements with her wand, muttering incantations now and again. She had also
wanted to fix the bruising between Astoria's legs too, but as soon as she
lifted up the edge of her silk sleeping shift, Astoria had burst into
hysterical sobs. Mary apologised over and over. "Very well, very well, we can
leave those. Miss, it's alright. Drink this."
 
"What is it?" Astoria asked in a choked voice, wiping away her tears with a
scrap of lace.
 
"The tansy tea you requested, Miss, I managed to procure some from the
greenhouses. I have infused it with a touch of valerian to help you sleep. And
- and I thought you ought to know...he has departed the Manor for the nonce."
 
Astoria did not need to ask whohe was. She gulped down the tea as if she were
some crude ruffian in a tavern but she did not care, all she cared about was
getting this tea into her body as soon as possible. "Thank you, dearest Mary."
Her voice was already beginning to slur a little. "You...you are so very
kind..." She did not manage to finish, for she had slumped back onto her
pillows and had drifted off into a troubled sleep, half hoping that she would
never have to wake.
***** V. - Broken *****
Chapter Summary
     So here we get a look at actual interaction between Astoria and Draco
     and her dealing with the aftermath of the rape. The story also begins
     to develop.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It had been almost a moon’s turn until Mary had been able to persuade Astoria
to leave her bedchamber. All previous attempts had ended in Astoria weeping and
shaking on the floor, clutching at Mary's skirts. Astoria could not bear the
thought of going downstairs and potentially seeing Dolohov, waiting there for
her. Just picturing his satisfied smirk made her want to tear the skin from her
flesh. Dolohov had not returned to the Manor since he had raped her, but still,
there was a constant climate of fear that he could be back any day and that was
more frightening than the thing itself. Indeed, since it had happened, Astoria
would often wake screaming in the night, drenched in cold sweat and urine,
convinced that Dolohov was pressing down on her chest or creeping into her
bedchamber. There would be days where Astoria would be barely conscious due to
all the potions she would need to take in order to dull her anguish. She would
also bathe up to four times a day now, scrubbing herself almost raw when the
water had long gone cold, as if determined to scrub away the stain that was
Dolohov. Narcissa had once again made numerous attempts to speak to her, but
Astoria had shunned the woman, she felt too angry and resentful towards the
Malfoy’s at present. When this failed, Narcissa had written her letters,
sliding them under her door, but Astoria had thrown them all into the fire
without reading a single word. The primary reason for Dolohov's absence was due
to The Dark Lord summoning his most trusted Death Eaters to go out on a most
secretive campaign that was to last for some time.
 
Good, the longer I may stay away from his unwelcome embrace, the better.
Perhaps he shall even die.Astoria thought viciously.
 
Mary had informed her that she had heard tell that it may be something to do
with suppressing Ireland as all of mainland Britain was now under the control
of the Dark Order. Mary's sources were the other maids as well as herself. When
the girls were commanded to 'service' the male Death Eaters, many of the men
had often bragged drunkenly of their exploits and conquests in the 'new world'
they were building. To hear them tell it, Travers was one of the worst for
doing this.
 
Astoria took a deep, shuddering breath and took a step out of her bedchamber.
She was clad in sombre robes of black silk today and though they were fitted at
the bodice, they buttoned up all the way to the neck, hiding her as much as
possible. As she and Mary passed the central bedchamber where Narcissa and
Lucius resided, they briefly overheard them arguing.
 
"I do not care what you say, Lucius!" Narcissa shouted, and it was evident that
she was crying. "I do not care if she is of age, she is a child!  A CHILD
Lucius!"
 
"I told you Narcissa that there is naught that I can do!" Lucius roared back.
"Do you truly imagine that the Dark Lord will..." But his words drifted away as
they continued along the corridor.
 
Astoria disregarded their words, she did not care about anything or anyone any
longer. When she got down to the hallway and laid eyes on the dining hall door
she began to shake violently, grabbing Mary's arm with a vice like grip. "It is
quite alright, Miss. We shan't go past that way to the gardens today, let us
try the West way instead. It is still your will to go to the gardens?" Astoria
gave a tremulous nod, still shaking.
 
When they finally reached the gardens, Mary sat her down on a delicate pink
marble bench and draped a silver fox fur shawl over her shoulders. September
was drawing near and there was a crispness in the air. "Thank you, Mary. You
may leave me now." Astoria said, her voice distant.
 
"If you are certain Miss, call me if you have need of anything."
 
Mary's footsteps were drowned out by the softly splashing fountain in the
middle of the large, bottomless pond. Astoria looked without really seeing, the
teaming flying fish, the minuscule magenta frogs upon giant lilies and most
noticeable of all, the enormous serpent fountain right in the middle with water
gushing from its open mouth. She used to be fond of this place. Now she felt
nothing, and sat there for what felt like an eternity.
 
"Tori?" A voice called softly from behind her. Astoria leapt to her feet faster
than a frightened deer and whirled around, chest heaving with panic and gazing
wildly about the gardens. What she saw made her cry out in shock. Standing
between the fluttering rose bushes was Draco, his white blonde hair gleaming in
the red afternoon sun. "I'm sorry, Tori, I'm sorry." He whispered, "It is me,
Tori, come"
 
Astoria shook her head wildly, taking a step back from him. Then she said in a
shaky voice, "Who Imperioused Madam Rosmerta in our sixth year and why?"
 
For a moment he looked confused and a little worried, as if she were mad. Then
comprehension dawned upon his pale face. "It was you. I asked you to curse her
as I was in detention that weekend with McGonagall, our transfiguration
teacher. It's me, Tori, truly."
 
He came closer and held out his hand, but she recoiled. "Don't! Just don’t!
Don't! I can't." She said in a trembling voice, utterly terrified. Yes, he was
Draco, but he was still a man and she had not been in the presence of any man
since Dolohov had raped her. Men frightened her more than ever before now.
Astoria had never seen such abject sadness in those grey eyes of his, but this
did nothing to quench her fright and confusion.
 
"Alright, alright" he said, still trying to keep his voice as soft as possible.
"How about I sit here? He gestured towards the stone ledge round the pond. "And
you can be seated as before?" Slowly, tremulously, Astoria began to walk back
towards the marble bench. She sat, stiffly, averting her eyes from Draco now
that they were much closer with a few feet between them. "I know what that
bastard did to you, Tori" he said in a low voice. She could tell he was trying
to keep the rage out of his tone so as not to frighten her any more than she
already was. "He will pay, I swear to you, he will pay. I don't know how I'm
going to make this right, but I will find a way, Tori"
 
She looked up at Draco, lilac eyes meeting the grey. "No one can make this
right" she said, tears now rolling down her cheeks. " The damage is done. I am
broken and dirty and your empty words will not solve that!" Astoria had begun
to sob openly now.
 
"Mother- Mother tells me you still will not receive her." Draco said,
tentatively.
 
"That is quite right, I will NOT receive her! Your vile family are the ones who
got me into this hellish mess!" Astoria yelled at him, erupting with anger.
 
"Tori please, what happened-what happened was not your fault, I-" Draco began.
But by then Astoria had sprang to her feet, the fox fur shawl landing on the
ground. Confused and scared, the magic burst out of her and there was a loud
slapping noise, as Draco's face snapped to the left when the involuntary spell
hit him.
 
He touched the spot where her magic had repelled him, hurt in his eyes. "Just,
just leave me alone Draco! Leave me alone!" She sobbed. And with that, Astoria
fled through the rose bushes, back towards the Manor, her anguished wails
echoing in the afternoon air.
 
“Tori- Tori please!” Draco called after her. But Astoria continued to run as
fast as she could, tears streaming down her face.
 
Three moons had passed since her encounter with Draco, Astoria thought as she
laid in bed, full of regret of deeds undone and things unsaid. To be sure, he
had had good intentions but at the time, she had been a fragile mess. Not that
she wasn't still fragile, however. Dolohov had still not returned, but she felt
just a fraction of her shattered self mending a little in his absence. Astoria
had suspected that she would have been able to recover herself quicker if there
was not the constant black cloud of Dolohov’s return hanging over her. Astoria
sighed, shoving away her troubled thoughts. The sun was streaming on her face,
giving her golden skin an almost unearthly glow. Mary had entered, opening the
handsome, brocade curtains with a flick of her wand and was now busying herself
on the other side of the room, her back to her.
 
"Good morn, Mary" she said sleepily, as she swung her long legs out of the bed.
Astoria then stepped daintily over to where Mary stood, the silk of her pale
blue sleeping shift rustling softly.
 
Mary gave a start, as if she had only just realised Astoria was there. "Oh,
good morn, Miss, are you - are you well?"
 
"Fairly" Astoria lied, frowning slightly. Something was amiss, Mary was still
not looking at her and her voice sounded strained. "What is that you have over
there, today's robes?" She asked.
 
Mary did not answer. She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned around to
face Astoria. She was holding a magnificent, pure white, lace gown, inlaid with
pearls and glittering diamonds on the bodice and the long, wide cuffs. However,
the expression on Mary’s face suggested she was holding a foul smelling,
rotting carcass. Astoria stared at the gown for a moment, not quite
comprehending what was in front of her. Then her stomach twisted violently. She
had seen that gown before. It looked to be an exact replica of the gown her
Mother had worn on her wedding day. She had seen enough photos and portraits of
her parents wedding countless times to know that she was not mistaken.
 
"Master Dolohov has returned to the Manor, Miss." Astoria's heart plummeted at
her words. "He said you are- are...to wear this today" Mary said, with an
enormous effort, as if the words had been ripped from her. "He said you will
need something suitable for the - for the ceremony. Today, Miss, today you and
Master Dolohov are to be we-"
 
Astoria did not let her finish, if she said those words it would it make it
real, absolute. "No." She said in a hard voice, actually taking a step back
from Mary and shaking her head feverishly. "I refuse, I refuse to do this, they
can't make me say the words, the Bond won't work."
 
"Miss, I am aware that this is distressing, I am, but I really don't think-"
 
"I told you, NO!" Astoria yelled suddenly, making Mary jump. "Get that out of
my sight immediately! Now I tell you!" Mary merely stood there, looking very
frightened. "What part of that did you not understand, Mary?" She snapped, "I
do not want that thing in my bedchamber, throw it onto the fire if you must!"
 
"Miss please listen to me!" Mary implored. "The Dark Order have now invoked
Matrimonium Coactus!" She burst out.
Chapter End Notes
     Matrimonium coactus, literally translated from Latin, means forced
     marriage.
***** VI. - Matrimonium Coactus *****
Chapter Summary
     I find this chapter really disturbing and it was hard to write.
     Dolohov is just so evil. And in case anyone is wondering, there is no
     chance of a redemption arc for him, as I said, he is pure evil.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Astoria froze. Matrimonium coactus. To call this magic medieval would have been
generous, she had recalled learning about this in A History of Magic. It had
been thousands of years since it was outlawed, and with good reason.
Matrimonium coactus effectively allowed any wizard to marry any witch he chose,
whether she was willing or no. It also entitled the would-be husband in
question to have automatic claim to any lands or gold owned by his wife and
made her his personal property. Currently, the binding magical contract that
sealed all unions would be void if either party were under some sort of magical
influence, say, the Imperious curse, for instance. Indeed, both parties were
previously permitted to keep their respective wealth and land unless they
wished to join it with their spouse. But no longer it seemed. Astoria stood
there silently, horror crashing over her like some great typhoon. There did not
seem to be any way out of this. Mary also seemed to be at a loss for words,
though her eyes were bright and there was sorrowful pity in her gaze.
 
The door to her bedchamber suddenly creaked open. Astoria whirled around and...
There, filling the doorway, clad in black velvet dress robes, stood Dolohov, a
look of satisfied smugness plastered across his pale, twisted face. "Leave us,
Mary" he murmured softly. Not daring to defy him, Mary scurried out of the
room, closing the door on her way out. It was all Astoria could do not to break
down there and then. Seeing Dolohov again was like re living the whole brutal
ordeal he had put her through. Dolohov's eyes roved over the skimpy silk shift
she was wearing, knowing she was naked underneath. It made her feel incredibly
vulnerable and scared. "Well my darling, I am back, did you miss me?" He gave
her a lascivious smile that cut. "Did you like my gift? I thought you might.
You are the very image of Irina, so I thought it fitting that you donned the
same gown for your own wedding day. Well do I remember how magnificent she
looked on that day. Oh yes-" he said in answer to the obvious shock on
Astoria's face, "I was there, a boy of twenty five years, though it almost
feels like it was yesterday. Ahhh..." He sighed pleasurably. "She was simply
divine, like a delicious piece of fruit, just waiting to be eaten" he went on,
his voice dripping with salaciousness. "I wanted nothing more than to rip that
gown from her body and claim her, right then and there for all to see."
Disgusted, Astoria turned away from him, looking but not seeing the grand
gardens and rolling hills outside her window, trying to stop herself shaking.
She hated it when he spoke of her family, he was always so cruel. "Why do you
not put it on my love?" Dolohov was right behind her now, his voice hissing in
her ear. Astoria whirled around and saw he was holding out the gown,
expectantly. She backed away in dread as he drew closer. "You are so very
beautiful after all. Come now, why don't you slip out of that shift for me? No
need to be shy sweetheart, there is naught that I have not yet seen beneath
there, after all." He said, grinning wolfishly. Astoria held out a shaking
hand, not daring to refuse. Dolohov looked madder than ever before. He was
practically salivating, his cold blue eyes popping with such avid intensity
that they seemed to pin her to the spot. His hand suddenly shot out and drew
her to him forcefully where she felt the sheer potency of his arousal. He gave
her a wet, dominating kiss, breathing hard into her mouth. Astoria could not
help herself, his taste, his smell, everything about him, revolted her. She
shoved him away, cringing, the gown still clutched in her right hand. "Now,
that's no way to treat your Lord husband to be, is it?" Dolohov purred.
"Indeed, who would have thought it? The daughter of the oh, so proud Hadies
Greengrass, born of a line spanning twenty thousand years, warming my bed each
night as my wife? What do you think Daddy dearest would say if he could see his
precious little princess being ravaged?" He let out an insane burst of
laughter, "perhaps we should ask him" he breathed, regaining control, though
his voice still shook with sadistic pleasure. "Perhaps we ought to dig old
Hadies up and make an inferi out of him, would you like that, my love?" He
jeered.
 
At these words, Astoria gave a wail of abject despair and fear. Then, suddenly
came the anger, rising up in her like boiling water, filling her with a
reckless daring. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and fired a
viscous stinging hex at Dolohov. Momentarily surprised and caught off guard,
Dolohov did not have time to deflect the spell, which hit him square in the
chest. She tore the gown in half and spat full in his face as he stumbled and
fell, grunting in pain. "Curse you! Curse you! You foul...you- you
evil...disgusting, scoundrel!" She screamed, as pearls and diamonds rolled all
over the plush purple carpet. "I would rather die than be your wife! Why don't
you just KILL me!?"
 
Dolohov had gotten to his feet. Though he was paler than usual and rubbing the
spot where he had been hit, he still managed to smile a terrible, maniacal
smile; his cold eyes swimming with blind, unadulterated rage. "Oh, my darling,"
he said in a slow, velvety voice full of promise. He wiped the spittle off his
cheek and licked it, obscenely from his fingers. "You really should not have
done that. Such a pity, I thought that you would have learned respect and
obedience by now." He gave a deep, mock sigh, as if seriously concerned. "I
cannot sully that pretty face on our big day, so instead... you shall just be
punished. And as for killing you,” He sneered. “I am never going to do that,
you are just far too much fun to play with." Astoria was suddenly plunged into
shadow, the early morning sun blocked by Dolohov's massive, hulking figure
looming over her. She shrank away, trembling, already regretting her angry
outburst. He was going to hurt her now, worse than ever before, she just knew.
Those glacial eyes were telling her so. There was a ringing silence as they
stared at each other, her fear feeding his anticipation. Then -"Crucio!" 
Dolohov suddenly shouted, drawing out his wand with incredible speed. Astoria
screamed. Words could not describe the pain, it was like she was being stabbed,
lashed and beaten all at once. The fiery pain penetrated deep to her very
bones. She had never ever before endured so much agony. This was a thousand
times worse than anything Dolohov had put her through thus far. Surely death
was better than this searing, blinding hell. Dolohov had waited a good five
minutes before lifting the spell, but it may as well have been an hour. Astoria
lay there, spluttering and sobbing, her breathing ragged. "Would you care for
some more my dear? Or will you be a good little girl and do as your told now?"
He crooned, mockingly.
 
Astoria was shaking, her muscles still twitching and aching painfully, such was
the power of the curse. She found her voice from somewhere deep within her and
said, "n-n-no, p-please, n-not again, not again! Please, Antonin! I'll be good!
I'll be good, I swear my Lord!" She sobbed, her voice gibbering.
 
Dolohov sneered. "See, we are learning already aren't we?" he continued, highly
amused. "I do enjoy it when you say my name. So delicious. But still, I would
not want you to forget this in a hurry, so-" He hit her with the curse again.
And again. And again. Astoria did not know how long this went on for, but by
the end she was barely conscious. After it was over she was jerking violently,
her head sagging and eyes rolling back into her skull. She was then distantly
aware of being roughly handled and thrown onto the bed, face first.
 
No. Not again, not now. She thought in dread.
 
A final end to the humiliation, Astoria thought, despairingly, as she heard
Dolohov fumbling with his garb and panting rapidly behind her. Before she knew
it, he had shoved up her silk shift up so that she was fully exposed, as he
grabbed her hips. He yanked her towards him and she felt his hard erection
pressing against her. But this time, this time, he pushed himself through her
'rear entrance.' Astoria gasped in shock and pain, causing Dolohov to laugh
softly in her ear, his hot, heavy breath on her neck chilling her to the bone.
"I have missed you, oh so much" he breathed, with relish "You know you deserve
this, do you not? You little slut". It hurt so much that Astoria had to will
herself not to scream out in anguish as he plunged in and out of her. She
winced every time Dolohov’s sweaty flesh slapped against hers, hard, as he
grunted and moaned with pleasure. The best thing that could be said was that it
did not last long. Torturing her beforehand had quickened his release, she
thought, disgusted. When Dolohov had finished, he leaned over and whispered, "I
shall be seeing you later, wife. And if you dare raise a wand to me again, you
will be very sorry indeed, my sweet. That was just a taster of some of the
things I can do" he then gave her a soft, delicate kiss on the cheek. At this,
Astoria went cold all over and wet herself. He chuckled and straightened,
giving her a stinging slap on the backside, and rearranged his robes.
Chapter End Notes
     So as I said earlier part of this is inspired by what ISIS are
     currently doing, performing forced marriages as a form of ethnic
     cleansing. Plus there is the fact that Dolohov is completely obsessed
     with Astoria and had a similar, creepy obsession with her Mother.
***** VII. - The Vow *****
Chapter Summary
     This sheds some more light on the devastation that the Dark Order
     have left behind and also delves into Astoria's personal feelings and
     more reminiscences about her Father.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Dazed and hurting, Astoria stared up at the purple velvet hangings of her
grand, empire bed. She did not know how much more of this she could take. It
seemed that there was no way of escaping Dolohov and this marriage unless she
took her own life. Indeed, she had considered the prospect even before all of
this, had even gone so far as to research the best potion for the task, but in
the end, she had not the courage to even attempt to make it. The ingredients
and methods were so complicated. However, unless some chance of battle felled
Dolohov, she was looking at a lifetime wed to this monster, however long her
life may last that is. Despite Astoria's hopes, Dolohov being killed was, at
best, unlikely at present. He was powerfully magical and a devoted servant of
the Dark Lord, who's strength and numbers were growing by the day, as witches
and wizards everywhere were finally submitting to the fact that the Dark Order
had won. Harry Potter, the so called 'Chosen One' had not been seen or heard
from in over a year, with many speculating he was in hiding somewhere. Others
thought he was dead, but in truth, no one had the slightest inkling where he
may be or what he may be doing. This was an issue that would send the Dark Lord
into a frenzied, black rage on the few occasions the subject of Potter was
raised in his presence.
 
Indeed, Astoria had been among those Death Eaters who had been sent on
fruitless campaigns to search for Potter. The Dark Lord wanted Potter and he
wanted him now. It utterly consumed him and everything else be damned, which
indecently, had fallen into chaos. There was no 'Ministry of Magic' any longer.
Rogue witches and wizards rampaged unchecked and untamed, terrorising Muggles
and their own kind alike, posturing their power by killing and torturing with
reckless abandon wherever they chose. To be sure, the Dark Lord himself had
killed the Muggle Prime Minister and impaled his body on a flagpole for all of
Muggle London to see.
 
The Dark Lord had big plans for the Muggles Astoria knew, they would all
eventually be forced into subservience or killed. They had no idea of the true
cause of their suffering of course, she had heard that the Dark Order were
being called, 'terrorists' by the Muggle newspapers and 'unknown, highly
sophisticated methods' were being used to defeat them. She also knew that the
Order of the Phoenix was a spent force, with barely a handful of surviving
members left. Who could possibly stand a chance against the Dark Order and its
followers now? It was all very well resisting, but with the stranglehold of the
Dark Order spreading its toxicity to other parts of the world, what chance did
anyone have of defeating them, no matter how powerful, or courageous? And even
if, by some miracle, the Dark Order were to be defeated, Astoria’s own fate was
likely to end with her being thrown into Azkaban for all of her nefarious
crimes. Astoria felt vile and broken, as she had done so before, but this time
felt like a new low. Was this her atonement? For all the terrible things she
had done? She had killed and tortured innocent people, both magical and Muggle.
Even though she was under the threat of being killed herself if she did not
comply, she had still had a choice, hadn't she? She had chosen to live and
commit atrocities, rather than to refuse and surrender her own, worthless life.
 
Maybe I do deserve this, just like Dolohov said. She thought.
 
Another memory drifted to her then, one of her Father and some of the last
words he ever spoke to her...
 
"I cannot live without you, Father! I could not bear it if you left me here,
all alone, where I cannot follow."  She had pleaded, tears streaming down her
face.
 
"Now, now child, I know you shall be perfectly alright"  he had replied with a
weak smile.
 
"How, in Merlin's name, could you possibly know that?" She had said, grasping
his wasted hand in both of hers fiercely, as though willing him to get better.
 
"Because," he had said hoarsely, "you are a true Greengrass; and we are strong
in the face of adversity. Make me proud my darling daughter, I do love you so
very dearly. You truly are, just like Irina, beautiful and brave."
 
Father had never, ever compared her to her Mother, Irina, before. His death had
been the result of a blood borne curse placed upon the Greengrass family over a
century ago. Astoria had often wondered if she would also fall victim to the
curse, but there was absolutely no way of telling if she carried it in her own
blood. Her Father had scarcely mentioned her Mother, Irina, at all throughout
her childhood. Yes, her parents had been niece and uncle, that was the
Greengrass way after all. But Astoria had often heard of the unbreakable,
esoteric love between them. She had remembered at the point of death, how her
Father had then gently touched her face with his shrivelled hand, and had
looked at her with such deep affection, that she felt as if they were staring
into one another's souls, lilac eyes connecting. It was a special moment, not
to mention an uncharacteristic show of endearment that her Father had scarcely
embraced before.
 
When Astoria thought of that encounter, a fierce, bubbling defiance had settled
itself inside her heart. She was not going to be cowed, would not allow her
fighting spirit to be quenched by the likes of filthy slime like Antonin
Dolohov. She was not dirty, she was strong, tough and beautiful, a true
Greengrass through and through, just as Father had said. As for Dolohov, he
truly was the most evil, vile and disgusting human being on the planet. Yes, he
was worse even than the Dark Lord. Not that this redeemed his Lordship
whatsoever for all his hideous deeds, but Astoria was certain that the Dark
Lord had not raped Bellatrix Lestrange to come by their daughter, Delphini. To
hear others tell it, it had been a most secretive and passionate liaison,
certainly not a one-sided, ruthless campaign of fear and aggression which was
the way of it between herself and Dolohov. One day, Astoria vowed, savagely,
one day, Antonin Dolohov would pay dearly for everything that he had ever done.
Not only for his monstrous treatment of her, but for his murdered wife, for
every man, woman and child he had ever brutalised in his blood stained career
as a Death Eater. He thought he could break her, could crush her into
submission, but she would be dammed to the fiery depths of hell if she let that
bastard win.
 
Dolohov's voice suddenly cracked like a whip, snapping Astoria out of her
reverie. "Mary! Get in here!" He barked. Mary appeared at once and came
creeping, timidly into the room. "Clean that up at once" he ordered, jerking
his head in the direction of the bed where Astoria was still lying in her own
blood and urine, his seed on her thighs. "Mend that gown immediately, and I
want her ready by noon, do you understand me, girl?"
 
"Yes, Master Dolohov." Mary said, looking utterly terrified.
 
"And do something about the blood, I won't have her bleeding through that gown,
it cost an absolute fortune." He then strode out of the room, velvet robes
swirling.
***** VIII. - Bonded Forever *****
Chapter Summary
     I think this chapter speaks for itself, but it also covers some of
     Dolohov's own family history. There's also non canon Death Eaters
     introduced, Silas Norton and Elizabeth Nott, who will be a recurring
     characters later on. (I will explain how and why Silas is disfigured
     in other chapters) I've also given some of the Death Eaters first
     names who are only known by their surnames in the original book.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Astoria's wedding day, such as it was, passed in a daze. She had uttered no
complaint as Mary had woven pearls and diamonds into her honey coloured hair in
a long, elaborate, French braid. Mary had also fastened diamonds to Astoria’s
ears and neck, garbing her in the magnificent, glittering wedding gown, its
train flowing three feet behind her. White silken slippers adorned with more
diamonds and pearls hugged her unsteady feet as she took the first shaky step
towards the door. Mary escorted Astoria to the Binding Chapel, a large, oval
building situated at the back of Malfoy Manor. When they arrived, Lucius was
waiting for them outside the large doors, clad in velvet green dress robes
woven with silver thread. His grand garments contrasted oddly with his ashen
face, thinning hair and sunken eyes. Astoria merely stared at him.
 
Lucius held out his hand. "I am to be your Father today." He said.
 
"I beg your pardon?" Astoria replied, expressionlessly.
 
"I am the one who is to hand you over to your husband, seeing as your own
Father, the dearly departed Hadies Greengrass, is no longer with us" he replied
in a weary drawl.
 
"Very well." Astoria said coldly. "Lead on."
 
Astoria took Lucius' gloved hand and allowed him to lead her into the Binding
Chapel. The entire room was made from pure white marble with gilded gold chairs
lining the hall. Fresh flowers were everywhere, matching perfectly with the
magnificent stained glass windows depicting the Malfoys in their native France.
There were two large statues, also gilt in gold at the end of the Chapel,
carved in the likeness of Merlin and Circe. Astoria saw Dolohov standing at the
end of the aisle, a look of ill concealed, viscous triumph upon his twisted
face. She noticed, dully, that he had now donned a black velvet bow tie over
the white silken collar peeking out over his dress robes, matching white gloves
covering his large hands. A true bridegroom, she thought, bitterly. Standing
next to Dolohov was a sallow skinned, wrinkled, stooped old warlock with only a
few wisps of long grey hair coming from his scalp. The warlock was wearing
grand, burgundy robes inlaid with elaborate golden scrollwork and he was being
propped up by a gold cane, whose head was in the likeness of a dragon. This
must be the Binder, Astoria thought. The ordeal Dolohov had put through that
morning had made her meek and submissive. So, Astoria said the words she needed
to say in order for the Binder to bond her to Dolohov for life, despite her
brimming eyes. The ceremony went on for hours, and the old warlock kept making
incence fly from the mouth of his dragon cane, blowing it everywhere.
 
Finally, the Binder said, "Do you, Astoria Venus Greengrass, take Antonin
Nikolai Dolohov..." Astoria could not believe this was happening, it was like
something out of a nightmare. "For as long as you both may live..." She wanted
to run, she wanted to hide, to scream and cry, this was all so horribly wrong,
it was not meant to be this way. But then- “I now declare you bonded forever”
finished the Binder in his croaky voice. As Dolohov slid the huge, pear shaped
diamond onto her finger, he gave her a malicious look full of promise.
 
Dolohov drew her to him and kissed her fiercely when the thing was done,
despite the usual practice of giving the bride a quick peck upon the lips as
everyone clapped. There were around seventy guests, chiefly inner circle Death
Eaters and their families, including the Dark Lord himself . As Astoria walked
back down the aisle, Narcissa Malfoy gave her the saddest look she had ever
seen, and Draco could not seem to look at her at all, his face grief stricken.
Astoria, however, was still filled with so much anger and resentment that she
had returned Narcissa's gaze with a cold, hateful stare. Though she did smile
mechanically for the photographer who was waiting along with all the well
wishers waiting at the Chapel entrance, knowing how enraged Dolohov would be if
she did not. From across the Chapel, Elizabeth Nott had then approached her.
She was an elder sister to her former classmate, Theodore Nott.  Elizabeth had
grasped Astoria’s hands in each of her own and told her how much she wished
that Astoria would give Antonin many children. Elizabeth Nott, a witch of
nineteen years, may have been beautiful with her shining chestnut hair, pale
grey eyes and straight, central nose. However, her cruel nature and cold gaze
seemed to eradicate any of her beauty. Afterward, Victoria Avery, a curvaceous,
red headed witch, had proceeded to congratulate Astoria on landing such a pure,
wholesome marriage, her eyes shining with a fanatical glow.
 
“This marriage, is very good first step.” Proclaimed the Dark Lord over all the
babble in his cold, clear voice, snapping Astoria out of her horrified trance.
“Blood purity is everything during these times. We must make haste to
repopulate the foul, tainted scourge of Muggle-Wizard unions encouraged by the
likes of Albus Dumbledore, Charity Burbage and their rotten ilk. The natural
order is now being reestablished, to blood purity!” He screeched, as goblets of
wine suddenly appeared in front of everyone in the hall.
 
“To blood purity!” shouted all those filling the Chapel, as they raised their
goblets towards the Dark Lord, and drank.
 
After the Binding Ceremony, all proceeded to the Malfoy’s Ballroom for the
dancing in a river of silk, velvet and jewels with much excited chatter among
the guests. Astoria was a graceful dancer, her Father had made sure of it,
though now she dreaded dancing the first dance with her new husband. She prayed
that she would keep her resolve and composure. Too soon, they had arrived in
the magnificent Ballroom. Twenty candlelit crystal chandeliers adorned the
ceilings, the wallpaper was pale blue silk, decorated with diamonds and silver
leaf swirls. The marble floor was done in the same pale blue as the walls, as
were the enormous velvet curtains that framed the colossal, silver gilt
windows. Astoria noticed that a small orchestra was seated on the large balcony
overlooking the Ballroom as Dolohov led her into the centre. The guests were
lining the walls. Dolohov bowed low and she curtsied deeply. Then he drew her
close to him, holding her waist and hand firmly. As the music started, they
both began to whirl around the room, Astoria’s dancing lessons rushing back to
her easily. She had to grudgingly admit that she was surprised with the grace
that Dolohov also danced with as well… how could such a monstrous being dance
so beautifully? After a time, other dancers began to join them, and over the
increased pitch of laughter and chattering voices, Dolohov said,
 
“You look absolutely stunning my sweet, I have never seen such a lovely sight
in all of my years. I can scarcely wait to get you in my bed tonight. You
belong to me now, you know that now, do you not?”
 
When Astoria did not answer, Dolohov tightened his grip on her hand and waist.
Astoria forced herself to smile the tiniest of smiles, frightened about what he
might do in front of everyone and replied, “As you say, husband” and Dolohov
gave her a satisfied sneer.
 
When the dancing was done with, everyone made for the dining hall for the
wedding feast. It was very same dining hall where Dolohov had raped her for the
first time. The dining hall itself had been decorated elaborately in green and
silver. Candelabras in the shapes of snakes adorned the vast dining table,
along with bunches of fresh flowers and mountains of fruit and macaroons. The
candlelight sparkled off the many mirrors and silverware. Astoria supposed that
the effect was beautiful, but was too devastated to appreciate any of it.
Astoria and Dolohov were seated on green, velvet chairs at the head of the long
table, the Dark Lord at the other head. There was an obscene amount of food,
twenty courses to be exact. Apple salad, poached trout, roasted venison, hung
pheasant, quail’s eggs, giant blue lobsters, dragon steak and so much more. But
Astoria had barely eaten a thing at the wedding feast, terrified of what would
happen at the end of the night, though she did knock back six large goblets of
strong, Elf made wine. It may be slightly easier later if she were drunk.
Dolohov stamped on this plan, however. As she reached for the seventh goblet,
his hand had clamped down, hard, over own and he whispered, threateningly, "I
do not want my wife behaving like some drunken slattern on her special day, I
think you have had enough, my dear."
 
Not daring to argue, Astoria released her grip on her jewel encrusted goblet
and stared blankly at a bunch of roses and lilies in front of her plate.
Dolohov himself became drunker and drunker and louder and louder with each
course. There were many toasts and speeches at the wedding feast, celebrating
her marriage to Dolohov. Phrases such as, ‘The New World' and 'Magic is Might'
were thrown out, but she scarcely heard them, nor cared. Astoria spoke only
when spoken to, keeping her eyes on her silver plate, her fright increasing
with each hour that ticked past. Knowing how much her Father would have cared
about this most poignant moment in her life, her thoughts drifted to him and
again, she could almost hear his words, but she had a few choice words of her
own:
 
Do you see this, Father? Do you see it?  Astoria thought, savagely.A decent,
Pureblood marriage at last, just as you hath always desired, does that make you
happy at last, Father?
 
In truth though, her Father would have been mortified to see her wed to the
likes of Antonin Dolohov. The Dolohov's were indeed a Pureblood wizarding
family. However, their House was in ruins. Three generations past, the family
had been exiled from their native Russia for their prolific, viscous, Dark
activities towards Muggles and wizards alike that could no longer be ignored.
The Russian Ministry of Magic had chosen to banish the Dolohov’s rather than to
execute them due to their noble, Pure Blood status. Dolohov's Grandsire,
Alexei, had uprooted the family to Britain, where his son, Anatole had enrolled
at Hogwarts, thereby becoming one of the first forerunners of the Dark Lord's
Death Eaters. Anatole's son Antonin, whom he had fathered while still at
school, had joined up during the First Uprising. Antonin and his Father had
participated in the brutal murders of the Prewett brothers during the Dark
Lord's first reign of terror. It was said that they and three others had
tortured the two brothers for a day and a half, mutilated their bodies and
dumped the butchered remains outside of the Ministry. The elder Dolohov,
Anatole, had been killed when he had been apprehended by hit-wizards. But,
Antonin, whom had also attempted to fight to the death when caught, had been
overcome by aurors and was thrown into Azkaban for his involvement in the
crimes. While Antonin was imprisoned, the modest family Estate of Dolohov in
Britain had fallen into disrepair and ruin. So as well as having Astoria
herself, Antonin would now get the billions of gold and treasures her family
owned, including the ancestral seat of Greengrass Palace. It was a most
rancorous prospect, she could almost hear her Father turning in his grave.
 
Drunken yells suddenly jolted Astoria out of her musings. "To bed! Let's bed
them! Bed them, bed them NOW!" Roared Corban Yaxley's rough voice across the
dining hall.
 
Oh, Merlin save her. It was time for herself and Dolohov to be bedded. It was a
tradition that was part of Matrimonium coactus to ensure the marriage was
consummated. As the cry was echoed throughout the hall, Astoria felt the little
blood left in her face start to recede and began to shake with terror. Strong
arms suddenly yanked her to her feet. Dolohov had gotten up from his chair.
Many wizards had started to approach the head of table where they had both been
sat.
 
"There you are boys!" Dolohov slurred loudly. "Take her to my bed!"
 
Shouts of delight, whistling, whooping and jeering assaulted her ears as
Dolohov thrust Astoria into the crowd of drunken, shouting men. Amycus Carrow
was wheezing with excitement as he shoved pudgy hand down the front of her
bodice, causing the delicate lace to tear down the front, partially exposing
her breasts.
 
"Look at the size of those!" Shouted Clarence Avery, lecherously.  He was
swaying from side to side, splashing wine from his jewelled goblet everywhere.
"You are a lucky fellow, Dolohov, those tits make me wish I had never been
weaned!"
 
Astoria's hands automatically jumped up to her chest to cover herself, but
Robert Mulciber shoved them away. She was then aware of Walden McNair behind
her, recognising his wicked chortle as he began to unlace the back of her gown
with deft, well practiced hands. Edward Travers then leapt out of nowhere and
tore one of her long sleeves, his eyes gleaming as they ran up and down her
form. William Jugson had proceeded to rip at her skirts, breathing hard and
shouting incoherently. Walter Selwyn began to grope at her aggressively and
Evan Rosier wrenched the lace garter from her right leg, waving it in the air
like some perverted trophy. Astoria could hear Dolohov laughing gleefully in
the background.
 
“Do not worry your pretty little head!” yelled a brown haired youth with a
disfigured face, whom she recognised as Silas Norton. He gave her a lewd smile,
“Dolohov knows what to do with a woman!” More raucous laughter from the crowd
followed his words.
 
It was all too much. Astoria backed away from their leering, monstrous faces.
It was if she was trapped in some grotesque, perverse fair with innumerable,
hideous caricatures preventing her escape. Thorefinn Rowle then suddenly and
easily scooped her up into his arms and threw her over his shoulder as if she
were some freshly hunted deer. Unbidden, she clutched at his back for fear of
being dropped, it was a long way to fall after all. Indeed, Rowle stood at over
seven and a half feet tall and he was incredibly drunk. "This one is a beauty,
Dolohov!" Rowle bellowed over all the noise, patting her backside as he did so.
"What do you say boys, do you not think the time is ripe to take this sweet
young thing up to the bed of our comrade so he can fuck his bride?!" There was
an ear splitting roar of assent and Rowle began to stride towards the cavernous
doors along with all the others who were bustling excitedly in their wake,
Astoria still flung over his massive shoulder. Through the hallway and up the
stairs they flew as McNair and Travers began to sing a bawdy song:
 
"There once was a witch named Sally, she sat on the lap of a well endowed chap,
and cried, Sir, you are right up my alley!
There once was an old witch named Ethel, and you may think it odd when I say,
that despite her high station, rank and education, she always spelled CUNT with
a K!
There once was a witch from Harrow, who found that her cunt was too narrow, for
times without number, she would use a cucumber, but could not accomplish a
marrow!"
 
There was a torrent of drunken laughter as they reached the top of the
staircase, which increased in pitch as Avery fell face first onto the plush,
green carpet, his goblet crashing down the marble stairs. Rowle turned left
rather than right as Astoria herself would have done so to reach her own
bedchamber. She had never before been to the West wing where the wizards were
housed. This unknown made her fright even more palpable. After travelling
through various corridors, Rowle kicked down the door to what must have been
Dolohov's bedchamber and ducked underneath the frame. Astoria vaguely took in
the room around her. There were very few candles lit which gave the room a dim,
ominous glow. From what she could tell, nearly everything in there was done in
black velvet, which made the atmosphere even more threatening. Every silver
ornament that she could glimpse was in the form of a snake. The same was true
for the fireplace, two enormous snakes coiled together and carved in black
marble, which she glimpsed as Rowle laid her down on the bed, giving her a
lecherous look as he did so.
 
Astoria became aware that every eye in the room was upon her. The wedding gown
was torn half to pieces after the mauling she had gotten downstairs, leaving
much of her flesh exposed. The wizards were all still chattering and drinking,
though none could stop staring at her half naked form upon the bed. She knew
what they all wanted to do to her. As Astoria shut her eyes to spare herself
this nauseating sight, there was a sudden upswing of cheering and clapping. She
looked up to see all the wizards parting to reveal Dolohov who had come
staggering into the room, a half empty bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey swaying
wildly in his hand.
 
Yaxley smiled and clapped Dolohov on the back. "Well old boy, time to do the
deed. Enjoy her, she looks magnificent" he said, casting a lustful glance in
her direction.
 
Dolohov laughed as he swayed into Yaxley heavily, "I already have!" he yelled.
 
The wizards all roared as they began to stream out of the bedchamber, leaving
her alone with Dolohov. Though they were no longer in the room, Astoria could
still hear them singing and laughing outside the door. From what she had heard,
it was fairly common for the bedding party to loiter outside, continuing their
drinking, shouting out obscene suggestions and advice to the groom. Indeed,
Astoria heard someone, Travers perhaps, yell through the door: "Put that pretty
thing on top Antonin, old boy! You'll be able to see those big beautiful tits
bouncing away!  Merlin what I would give to see that...." but the rest of his
words were lost over a fresh outbreak of laughter.
 
Meanwhile, Dolohov was standing at the foot of the bed, still swaying slightly
and attempting to get her into focus, all the while fondling his crotch. He
took another great swig from the bottle. "You shan't be needing that" he
slurred, thickly, giving a flick of his wand so that the tattered remains of
her gown vanished, leaving her completely naked. Astoria began to shake
violently and made to cover her breasts, but Dolohov noticed and said,
warningly, "No." She stopped at once and shut her eyes tightly, willing herself
to block out the sounds of him clumsily undressing. Too soon though, the
feather bed began to creak and Astoria felt Dolohov clambering on top of her,
breathing heavily and stinking of drink. Her eyes flew open as she felt his
hand caressing her right breast and failed to repress a shudder, her chest
rising and falling rapidly. Dolohov was stark naked, his large member hard as
an iron bar, his bloodshot, icy blue eyes staring at her. "So." He said softly,
a smile playing around his thin lips, "Here we are at last." Astoria did not
answer. Frightened, she turned her face away onto the pillow, averting her
eyes. "Now, now, that is quite impolite on our wedding night" he said with a
soft chuckle. "Look at me my darling, I want to see that gorgeous face" his
tone was still soft, but she could hear the unspoken threat beneath it: Do as I
command, or you shall sorely regret it. Astoria forced herself to look into his
face. Dolohov smiled unpleasantly and proceeded to push her legs apart with his
knees, he grasped her small waist with both of his hands and took a deep intake
of breath. As he exhaled, a hand travelled down between her legs, sliding
between her lower lips, beginning to rub her harder and harder. She could feel
his length pressing into her thigh, and a dribble of seed trickled down toward
her womanly folds. “Such lovely smooth skin” Dolohov murmured, as he ran his
other hand up and down her body. “You truly are, exquisite, the most beautiful
witch in the world. Time to put a baby in that belly.”
 
Unbidden, the tears came rushing to Astoria's eyes and she had to bite down on
her bottom lip to stop herself from sobbing. Dolohov ignored this and proceeded
to kiss her all over, after which he jammed two fingers inside, making her
flinch. Still taking no notice of her reactions, he proceeded to work his
fingers in and out of her for a time before opening up her lips to push himself
up inside to fill her with a grunt of pleasure. Dolohov pinned down both of her
hands with his own and began to thrust, hard, breathing rapidly into her neck,
his moans becoming louder and louder, his bursting, seed filled testes slapping
on her backside. At this increase in noise there was much whooping and
whistling from the remaining wizards outside, shouting out words of
encouragement.
 
"Fuck that little filly, Dolohov! Plant a son between those legs, that's my
boy!" Someone shouted, his words barely coherent, such was the extent of his
drunkenness.
 
A small cry of pain escaped Astoria's lips as Dolohov began to pound her even
harder, she was still tender from this morning and was now in agony. He
remedied this annoyance by kissing her aggressively, his tongue ramming into
her mouth. The kissing served to muffle her sobs as by now she was weeping in
earnest. Dolohov grabbed her neck as he began to climax, his loud groans
drowning her out completely. After Dolohov had finished inside her, he lay
there, chest heaving.
 
"You are something else my love...something else..." he whispered, his voice
thick with pleasure. Astoria did not answer, she despised the wet, sticky
feeling of his seed between her thighs. She would clear it once Dolohov had
fallen asleep, too frightened to attempt it while he was awake in case he
reacted violently. Only, she never had a chance to clean herself. Dolohov had
raped her over and over again for half the night, each episode more violent
than the last. This time she did scream and cry, she could not help it, but
this only served to make him hurt her even more. After he was finally done,
Astoria was too weak and exhausted to even move, let alone to do ought else.
Her nightmare was just beginning however, the next morn she was awoken by a
strong, muscular arm coiling tightly around her small waist. "Good morning my
sweet" Dolohov whispered in her ear, his hard member pressing against her back
as he began to kiss her neck.
***** IX. - Home Again *****
Chapter Summary
     So this chapter highlights Antonin's domineering character and his
     selfish desire for power and wealth. It's part of the reason he has
     so much rage directed at Astoria because in a way he is jealous of
     her, seeing as he grew up as an impoverished aristocrat, his family
     banished, their House in ruins etc and she has/had everything he
     never did. It's also a kind of sadistic kind of revenge for Antonin,
     seeing as he hated her Father, knowing that he would have never
     allowed Antonin to marry Astoria when he was alive, plus the fact
     that he had desired Astoria's Mother and could never have her.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
One week after Astoria's wedding to Dolohov, they both left Malfoy Manor for
Greengrass Palace. Antonin had abruptly declared over breakfast on the day that
they would be living there henceforth. She supposed it did not serve for them
to continue to live at Malfoy Manor. Antonin had informed her that Headquarters
were now at Slytherin Castle, an enormous stronghold that the Dark Lord had
constructed himself just outside of London. Now that Ireland had fallen, a
trifle of normality had returned to everyone’s lives. However, before the Dark
Lord’s conquest of Europe, matters must be set to rights in Britain after the
devastation the Dark Order had left behind. Astoria could not deny it, though
she was repulsed by her marriage, the thought of going back to the home where
she grew up was a small sort of comfort to her. Mary was to join them that
evening; the rigours of caring for the vast Palace and its residents were too
much for Astoria's old House Elf, Iddi to cope with.
 
When they apparated in front of the imposing golden gates emblazoned with the
Greengrass family crest; a purple dragon entwined with a green snake, Astoria
felt a rush of different emotions as she beheld her family home, even though
she was pinned beside Antonin. She was home again. As her velvet, mink trimmed
cloak fluttered in the wind, she took a step forward and said, “I am Astoria
Greengrass Dolohov, daughter of Hadies and Irina Greengrass, here to enter my
ancestral home.”
 
The golden gates swung open after she had said the words, revealing the majesty
of the palace before them. A sprawling, limestone monstrosity loomed above, the
courtyard floored in purple marble with gold statues depicting members of the
Greengrass family everywhere. A large, winged Abraxan horse soared in the sky
above. Astoria had a great passion for horses and was distantly pleased that
the horse looked healthy; Iddi had clearly been taking care of them in her
absence. Astoria also saw in the distance of the green grounds that the finely
bred unicorns were also gambling around in a faraway field. The gilded front
doors opened automatically as they approached. When she and Antonin entered the
hall with the soft purple carpet cushioning their feet, an enormous portrait of
her Mother and Father glared down upon them. A portrait of identical size of
her brother, Alcaeus, hung on the left side of the towering butterfly
staircase. A concealed, velvet padded, gold wrought lift was hidden behind the
staircase, Astoria knew. Towards the end of his life, her Father had been too
weak to go anywhere other than in his rolling chair, so the lift had been
necessary when he had commanded to be rolled out into the palace grounds.
 
“Who is that you have got there with you?” Her Father snapped from his
portrait, so realistically that she half expected Father would come creaking
around the corner in his golden rolling chair, shrieking and pointing his
jewelled cane at her. Astoria quailed. Despite knowing that the portrait was
merely a representation of her Father, it still served make her feel scared and
subordinate, knowing how much this marriage would have enraged him.
 
“This-this, is Antonin Dolohov, F-Father." Astoria stammered. “He is my Lord
husband as of one week ago.”
 
"HUSBAND?!"  her Father screamed, lilac eyes popping. “Dolohov was a decent
fellow, but married to mine own daughter, absolutely not!” He slammed his fist
down on the throne he was painted in. “I will not have it Astoria, I will not
have it, I tell you!”
 
Alcaeus, depicted in the other portrait riding a black unicorn stallion and
resplendent in golden robes, also let out cries of incoherent shouts and
outrage. Astoria knew that this was angering Antonin, a quick glance at him
told her all she needed to know; a muscle was twitching in his jaw and the
cords of his neck had come to the surface as he glared up at her Father’s
likeness. Therefore, it was no surprise when he drew out his wand and directed
stunning spells at each of the portraits. Father slumped and fell silent,
Alcaeus falling off his mount. Mother on the other hand had not said a thing,
she looked sadly down at Astoria, sorrow filling her lilac eyes. Antonin then
seized her by the arm and dragged her into the drawing room. It was just as she
remembered. Brocade purple curtains stretched to the ceiling to frame the large
windows, silken purple wallpaper adorned with amethysts covered the walls with
gold leafed animals prancing between them. All the furniture was done in purple
velvet and elaborately carved in gilded gold. Delicate urns in the shapes of
snakes and dragons littered the room, made of blown purple glass, daintily
painted china and crystal. The moving mural on the ceiling depicted her Great,
Great Grandsire, Zeus, defeating a pack of manticores and chimeras. A grand,
gold framed mirror hung above the huge fireplace, framed by two dragons,
reflected some of the green gardens which sprawled outside.
 
“Sit” he hissed at her, and she sat upon a chaise long immediately. “So- So”
said Antonin, striding about the room furiously. Then he suddenly stopped and
looked at Astoria. “Are you not going to show me around and offer me
refreshment my lady? I have only been here twice or thrice after all and I
expect my wife to know her courtesies.” He demanded with a snap in his voice,
unsmiling, one of his dark eyebrows arched.
 
“Of-of course husband” replied Astoria, slightly taken aback. “Iddi” Astoria
said into the silence. At once, a shrivelled old House Elf in a navy blouse and
skirt appeared in front of her and curtsied low.
 
“Mistress Greengrass, how mays Iddi be of-“
 
But Astoria cut Iddi off, terrified of the look on Antonin’s face when Iddi had
called her by her maiden name. “No, no Iddi” she said hastily, “you are to
address me as Madam Dolohov henceforth, I am now wed to the noble Antonin
Dolohov.” Astoria gestured across the room and the House Elf looked surprised
and she turned around to give Antonin another deep curtsy. “He is now your
Master and you are to do everything he asks of you.”
 
Antonin was smiling now, a look of deep satisfaction on his long, pale face.
“Iddi,” he said in his arrogant, commanding voice. Fetch wine, bread, fruit and
cheese at once.” The House Elf quailed a little, but hastened to obey
immediately. There was clearly something about Antonin that frightened her,
even though she had scarcely known him for a few minutes. A moment later, the
food arrived on gold, jewel scalloped platters. “Come to me, my love” Antonin
said, holding out his hand, for he had just slouched down onto the largest
sofa. Astoria got up from her seat and walked across the room to join him.
After she was seated he began to trace her jaw with his fingers before grasping
her under the chin to turn her face towards him. “So, what are you going to
show me?” he asked, his mouth twisting in a horrible sort of smile.
 
Astoria swallowed hard. “Greengrass Palace has over eight hundred rooms and one
hundred staircases, so I shall show you the main ones, if it- if it please you”
she replied, trying hard to keep the tremble out of her voice.
 
Antonin smirked, released his grip on her chin and leaned forward to seize a
large goblet of wine, quaffing it down in one as was his wont. Astoria prayed
he would not start to get drunk now as the goblet re filled itself as he took
another and drank two more goblets. Astoria herself merely nibbled at a little
fruit and only drank a single goblet of wine. When they were done with the
food, Antonin stood and held out his hand. She took it and proceeded to show
him the various rooms of the palace. The dining hall, the morning room, the
ballroom, the hunting lodge and the stables, which were a significant part of
the grounds as they arrived outside. After showing him the grand, flower filled
gardens and the lake filled with golden swans, Astoria finally led him toward
where all the equines were housed. The stables of Greengrass Palace housed over
twenty unicorns and twelve Abraxan horses. Though many of the unicorns were
still out in the field, there were a still a decent few in their stalls. Father
had bred them with domestic horses to tame the wildness within them, it was
something that he had always had a great passion for. As Astoria and Antonin
walked upon the pale stone floor viewing the elaborately carved stable doors
and silver water troughs, she tentatively explained the history of the horse to
unicorn breeding that her Father had implemented, outlining the many benefits
to this practice. The large, black unicorn stallion named Nero who had been a
favourite of her Brother’s, Alcaeus, shied away from Antonin when he drew near
and actually lowered his head to display his lethal, sharp golden horn, but
Astoria gave Nero a reassuring pat on the neck to calm him. She had always
found that equines, unicorns especially, always seemed to know when a person
was cold or cruel, someone who would do them harm. After this awkward
encounter, Astoria hurriedly went on to the other unicorns which came in many
colours: palomino, chestnut, bay, roan, dapple grey and of course, pure white,
though she found that these too tossed their heads nervously and pawed at the
ground when they passed by. The Abraxan horses had merely looked haughtily at
them when they came to the large paddock, flexing their enormous wings and
tossing their heads impressively.
 
As Astoria was gazing at the animals, Antonin had then abruptly turned to her
and said, “Where are the Lord and Lady of the palace housed?” There was an
unpleasant tone in his voice that sent a chill down her spine. She had not
thought of the bedchambers, perhaps because she knew that she was dreading what
would happen within, her thoughts had not even strayed there.
 
“The- the Lord and Lady’s bedchambers are situated on the top floor of the
palace, husband” She replied, very scared.
 
“Take me there at once.” He commanded, with a nasty smile.
 
Once back in the palace, Astoria then proceeded to take Antonin up the
butterfly staircase, its bannisters covered with purple velvet. When they were
walking down a corridor they passed a portrait of her Grandmother, Medusa, her
lilac eyes sunken and streaks of silver in her golden tresses. She had been a
frightful, querulous old witch and Astoria had half expected for her to start
shrieking like Alcaeus and Father, but no. Medusa Greengrass merely sniffed and
turned her back on them, her nose in the air. They finally arrived at a set of
gold doors, illustrated with green snakes and purple dragons, the jewelled
family crest above the frame. The Lord and Lady’s bedchambers comprised of a
string of lavishly decorated apartments. Both bedchambers included their own
bathing suites, and were separated by a circular dining chamber which was light
and airy, done in peach marble with matching silken wallpaper and furniture.
There was also a morning room, separate dressing rooms and a small music
chamber. The Lord’s bedchamber had its own solar and the Lady’s bedchamber was
attached to a nursery, delicately decorated in white and gold.
 
“Good. This pleases me.” Said Antonin, striding about the Lady’s bedchamber
when he suddenly halted at the side of the bed. Astoria’s heart began to race.
He softly caressed the silk pillow and murmured, “So this was where Irina
slept.” He looked up at her then and there was nothing but greed and lust in
his eyes. Astoria was revolted to think that he was becoming aroused at the
thought of raping her in her dead Mother’s bed. “And now I think, it is time to
christen our new quarters.” Antonin went on, wheeling around to advance upon
her with that horribly familiar expression on his pale face. He then shoved her
up against the wall and began to kiss her roughly from her cleavage up to her
neck before finding her mouth, tasting of the spiced wine drunk before. Antonin
ground his body into hers, moaning slightly as he kissed her. Astoria gave a
squeal of horror and began to flail, all the while knowing how futile this was,
but she could not stand his touch and was still sore from when he had taken her
just his morn. Antonin merely grasped her more tightly and held her in place
with his strong arms. “Whatever is the matter?” He sneered as he pulled away
from her mouth, licking his lips. “Is it not your wish to be fucked by your new
husband in your Mother’s bedchamber?” he said, jeeringly as Astoria began to
weep. At this, he grabbed her by the jaw and yanked her towards him so that she
was looking directly up into his cruel, twisted face. “You should not be
weeping all the time” he snarled. “You look far more beautiful when you are
graceful and composed.”
 
Astoria gave the tiniest nod and forced herself to hold back the sobs. Antonin
gave an evil, satisfied grin and began to wipe away the tears gently with his
thumb, after which he drew out his wand. For a moment she eyed it with a thrill
of horror, thinking of the Cruciatus curse, but he merely waved it lazily so
that her robes vanished, and she was left standing before him in her lingerie,
trembling like some frightened animal. Her undergarments today were black as
jet made from silk and lace, decorated with small ribbons. She wore a thin lace
corset to support her large breasts which were spilling out of the top. A
garter belt hugged her curvaceous hips and suspenders ran down the tops of her
slender thighs to hold up the frilly, black, opaque stockings. Antonin beheld
her with a grotesque, almost childlike enthusiasm as his eyes crawled over
Astoria’s lingerie clad body, he seemed frozen to the spot as he took in the
sight, seemly enraptured. After a moment or two, Antonin seemed to come to his
senses. He waved his wand again so that his own robes also vanished and was
bare chested, clad only in breeches which he was beginning to unlace. His
fingers were fumbling in their excitement but before long, his obscenely large
member sprang out from his body.
 
Antonin then laid hands upon her, yanking down the delicate corset so that her
breasts spilled free. Now panting hard, he grabbed her by the back of the
thighs and shoved her back up against the wall, forcing her legs wide open to
reveal the delicate pink between. He held her there easily and began to feed
his shaft into her, though it ceased to go any further to enter her in earnest.
Antonin gave a grunt of annoyance and shifted his hips slightly, then pushed
again so that his length fully slid up inside. Astoria gave a yelp of pain just
as her husband have a groan of pleasure as he penetrated her. Antonin had never
taken her standing up, but she hated it even more being taken this way. As she
was up against the wall, she and Antonin were nose to nose, therefore she could
not gaze up at the ceiling as was her wont when he took her on her back. As
Antonin began to climax, he took one of her nipples in his mouth, and with a
stab of revulsion, Astoria was mortified to feel it harden, though she felt no
stirrings whatsoever. He took his time as he spurted inside her and stood
there, panting, his forehead on hers, his breeches tangled at his feet. When
Antonin finally pulled out of her, he gazed at her pink womanly folds smugly as
his seed slowly trickled out of her to drip on the carpet. As he released her,
Astoria slumped down the wall to collapse onto the floor, after which she drew
her knees to her chest to stop the shaking. Antonin meanwhile, had pulled up
his breeches and was tucking himself back in.
 
“I think I am rather going to enjoy it here.” Antonin announced. He grinned at
her and strode out of the room.
 
Astoria rested her head on her knees and wept. She did not know how much more
of this she could take. She slowly crawled across the vast room to get to the
bed, desperate for its soft comfort. As she collapsed onto it, not bothering to
take off her lingerie, she thought of her Mother. Though she had never known
her, Astoria wished she had her Mother to hold her in her arms and tell her
everything was going to be alright. Tears wetted her silken pillow with the
knowledge that this was something she would never, ever have and that there
seemed to be no escape from her misery. Astoria slowly drifted off into a
restless sleep. Hours later she had screamed loudly when awoken by a gentle
touch on her shoulder, convinced that it was Antonin.
 
“Madam, Madam, forgive me! It is I, Mary.” Her voice cried. Mary had at last
arrived at the palace, and there was pity in her gaze as she beheld Astoria
lying there on the bed. “Master Dolohov has commanded that you are to be bathed
and dressed to join him for dinner in the Lord and Lady’s dining chamber this
eve.” Astoria began to cry again. Mary rubbed her shoulder consolingly and
gently pulled her to her feet. “Come now Madam, Iddi and I shall not harm you.”
She said in a trembling voice, leading her toward the bathing suite.
 
Chapter End Notes
     My main inspiration for Greengrass Palace is the Palace of
     Versailles: http://en.chateauversailles.fr/
***** X. - Slytherin Castle *****
Chapter Summary
     So here we get a glimpse of Astoria's activities with the Death
     Eaters and her first encounter with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger
     and Ron Weasley. We also get the first contact between Astoria and
     Voldemort.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Two moons had waxed and waned since Astoria and her new husband had taken up
residence at Greengrass Palace and married life had not gotten any better for
her. Without fail, Antonin would bed her every morn and every night, often
multiple times. As a result, she was always tender between her legs and would
sometimes bleed. When this happened, Antonin would take her in her rear
entrance which was even more painful. She seemed to be doomed to this misery
forever. Astoria and Antonin had only been summoned several times to enforce
the Dark Lord's commands since they moved away from Malfoy Manor. This usually
involved rounding up Muggles or Mudblood’s who were attempting to leave the
country. The last time was particularly unpleasant. One evening, they received
word that a group of twenty Muggles or so who had been in hiding were planning
to flee off the coast of Dover with the intention of making for France, which
remained unconquered. France was kind of a safe haven for those wanting to
escape the tyranny of the Dark Order in Britain, the Muggleborn French Minister
of Magic welcoming them with open arms. Astoria, Antonin, Silas Norton and
seven others were sent written word by owl, commanding them to ambush the
Muggles early on the given morn.
 
Astoria shuddered when she recalled that encounter. The tall white cliffs of
Dover had towered above them, plunging the beach into an eerie shadow under the
red sky. The sun had barely risen and the faint outline of the moon could still
be seen when they apparated in front of the battered wooden boat gently bobbing
in the lapping waves. The Muggles had been creeping across the deserted beach
toward it. At their sudden appearance there were screams. A Muggle woman had
seized the small child she had been leading.
 
“No, please no!” the Muggle woman had shrieked, terrified as she clutched at
the crying child. “I beg you, please, have mercy! For my child please, please!”
Antonin and Silas merely laughed jeeringly.
 
“You have a choice.” Astoria remembered Yaxley say in his rough, hard voice.
“Submit and come with us, or run and die.”
 
At Yaxley’s words, the Muggles had all scattered as Astoria and the other Death
Eaters all raised their wands. Some of the Muggles attempted to wade into the
sea, desperate to get away, but Jugson casually fired out killing curses after
them, each Muggle he hit landing with a horrible splash into the water. A
Muggle man had hurtled at Astoria, howling, a jagged white rock in his hand.
She stumbled and her Death Eater mask slipped to reveal her face, but she
pointed her wand at the man at once, causing his neck to snap right around,
killing him instantly. At this, a woman, perhaps his wife, yelled in horror,
but Avery made a sharp, sweeping movement with his wand and her throat was
slashed open, blood spurting everywhere as she collapsed on the sand, a slowly
enlarging pool spreading out from underneath her. Astoria recalled with vivid
clarity when Edward Travers and Bellatrix Lestrange had taken turns in
torturing a small Muggle boy of about six years while his Mother looked on, she
was bound to the spot by enchantments and screaming in anguish as they both
cackled madly, their faces alight with malicious pleasure. Silas had killed a
Muggle boy not much older than himself by directing a vicious jinx at him,
causing his head to explode. The boy’s skull and brains were spattered all over
the boat’s hull and the remains slid into the sea, floating. He was the only
Muggle who actually managed to reach the boat. Predictably, Antonin chose to
persue a teenage Muggle girl, directing hexes at her back as she shrieked in
pain when each spell hit her in turn. Her screams were punctuated by Antonin
giggling like some mischievous child. When he grew tired of the sport, Antonin
tackled her to the ground and began to rape her, both of them becoming soaked
in the softly lapping sea foam as he took his pleasure. Astoria could still
hear the young girl’s pained wails echoing in the early morning air.
 
Finally, when all the Muggles were lying dead on the beach, Bellatrix addressed
them. “Good! The Dark Lord shall be most satisfied. I do not doubt that these
are some of last scumthat have not escaped our purge. The rest are either dead
or enslaved.” She declared in her harsh voice, surveying the bloody scene with
the utmost satisfaction and glee. At her words, Silas let out a screech of
triumph and blasted the Dark Mark into the sky, its green light eradicating the
glow of the morning sun. Bellatrix had chortled then, her dark eyes gleaming
with the reflection of the Mark as she gazed up at it. “I shall inform the Dark
Lord of the good work you have all done here this morn.” She finished. After
this hideous proclamation, each of them vanished to return to their homes, not
caring to clean up the mess they had left after themselves.
 
Half a moon's turn after this grim encounter, Astoria was taking tea in the
drawing room in the afternoon when she suddenly felt her Dark Mark burn
fiercely, Slytherin Castle flashing across her mind. She was to apparate to
Slytherin Castle. Astoria tapped at her red silken robes with her wand and they
turned black at once, the Dark Mark emblazoned in silver-green thread over her
heart. As she was drawing on short, black gloves, Antonin came hurtling into
the drawing room, also dressed in signature, Death Eater robes.
 
"Come, we must leave at once!" He snapped at her, holding out his arm.
 
She grasped him and they both turned on the spot together, arriving with a pop
outside massive, black spiked gates with a large 'S' in the likeness of a snake
adorned at their centre. Beyond the gates was an enormous castle on a hill,
done in pitch black stone, its many sharply pointed turrets piercing the pink
afternoon sky. At least a hundred Dementors swirled around the castle, Astoria
could feel chills up and down her spine like a horrid mouse with icy feet
scuttling up her back. Dementors terrified her and she could not spend more
than a few minutes in their presence without feeling faint as dreadful memories
poisoned her mind. Antonin automatically held up his hand and Astoria took it,
allowing him to lead her just as he always liked. They both made their way up
the long, sweeping lane underneath the Dementors towards the castle itself,
Astoria shuddering slightly at the unnatural chill from those monsters.
Finally, they came to the cavernous entrance hall done in black and green
marble with snake statues and urns everywhere. The Dark Lord was sitting on a
towering, shiny, black throne positioned at the top of several stairs. There
was a circle of the longest serving Death Eaters sitting before him on lower
seats with only two places to spare. All the other Death Eaters, who were
likely converts or those who had sought out the Dark Order from abroad, lined
the walls. There looked to be over a hundred of them. Astoria and Antonin had
been the last to arrive.
 
"Ah, the Dolohov's are finally here" said the Dark Lord in his high, cold
voice. "Sit. Now." he commanded curtly, pointing a long white finger at the
vacant seats. However, they both approached the throne first, Astoria aware of
every eye in the room upon herself and Antonin. As usual, Antonin bowed very
low and Astoria gave the deepest curtsy she could muster, their eyes averted
from the Dark Lord's face. Afterward they took their seats. "The Potter boy is
said to be hiding out at one of the homes of the Order" said the Dark Lord,
still in that cold, cruel voice. "Henceforth, I want a taboo curse placed on my
true name, making it easier to track any remaining Order members and non
supporters whom we have still not yet flushed out. See to it immediately."
 
The encircling Death Eaters, Astoria included, all got to their feet at once,
raised their wands and murmured together, "Uti metu, Voldemort." Astoria could
not quite keep the quiver out of her voice when she said the name. A blinding
flash of white light lit the room as the taboo spell took hold. They all took
their seats again once the Dark Lord had given a stiff nod of assent for them
to do so. His red eyes then found Antonin and herself.
 
"Dolohov, you shall partner Rowle. You shall keep watch of any movements the
Potter boy may make. Madam Dolohov, as before, you shall compile any relevant
information you may receive on Potter and send it straight to me." Said the
Dark Lord, coldly.
 
"Of course, my Lord." They all said in unison, bowing their heads respectfully.
 
"Snape, you are to be dispatched back to Hogwarts to serve as Headmaster. Bella
shall remain here. The rest of you are to patrol the streets of all cities,
towns and villages to keep order and weed out any stray Mudblood's and non
compliant Muggles. Just in case." He finished, his lipless mouth curving in an
evil sort of smile.
 
The Dark Lord then began to stand to dismiss them all, but suddenly, there was
another flash of white light. Only this time, it widened to reveal a moving
image of the Mudblood, Granger and the Blood Traitor, Weasley talking to
someone invisible whom they were clearly calling, "Harry" in Muggle London.
 
"Go! Go now!" Shrieked the Dark Lord. "Bring him to me at once! Never mind the
Mudblood and the Blood Traitor, kill them if you must!"
 
Antonin and Rowle vanished immediately, turning on the spot with a pop, leaving
a tense silence in their wake. Astoria had been pacing the throne room for what
seemed like hours when the Dark Lord finally said, "Madam Dolohov. I command
you to investigate the location where Rowle and your Lord husband hath
apparated to."
 
"Very good, my Lord" she replied at once, turning on the spot, just has Antonin
and Rowle had done so a few hours before.
 
When she arrived in the disused Muggle café, an explosion of sound hit her
ears. The café was more, or less destroyed and blue smoke hung in the air. All
the tables and chairs had been overturned, the windows were smashed and there
were large craters in the floors and walls. Antonin was duelling Potter and
Granger at the same time, all of their wands flashing and swirling. Weasley was
bound in ropes on the floor on the far side of the room. As Antonin goggled at
Astoria’s sudden appearance, the Granger girl took advantage of his momentary
distraction and shouted, “Obliviarte!”
 
Antonin was blasted off his feet and smashed into the counter, rolling over the
top and falling out of sight. Granger and Potter then turned their wands on
Astoria, who also began to duel the pair of them. Granger seemed to be the more
skilful of the two, so when Astoria had her chance, she yelled,
“Impedimenta!”at the other witch. Granger was flung into the opposite wall, her
skull giving a sickening crunch as she slumped to the floor, blood running from
her right temple. With a roar of fury, Potter pointed his wand at Astoria. She
automatically conjured a shield charm, but nevertheless spun sideways in the
air, landing on the grimy floor with a painful thud. As Astoria got to her
feet, she saw that Potter had released Weasley, and both were dragging Granger
toward them. She raised her wand and shot a multiple firing stunning spell at
them in order to hit all three, several jets of red light flying at them, but
she had missed. Her spell instead hit one of the lights on the ceiling,
plunging the cafe into half darkness. From what Astoria could see through the
gloom, Potter shot her a look of the utmost revulsion and hatred. He turned on
the spot with Weasley with the unconscious Mudblood between them, and vanished.
How stupid she had been, she should have cast an anti disapparition jinx over
the café to prevent them from escaping. What on Earth would the Dark Lord say
when he discovered their failure? What would he do?
 
Astoria shuddered and murmured, “Lumos.”Light burst from her wand and her eyes
swept the smashed up cafe. She was covered in white dust, her hands were
scratched and bleeding and she was throbbing all over from where all the curses
had hit her. Astoria's wand light found the end of the counter filled with
rotting sandwiches to reveal two pairs of large feet. Astoria crept behind the
counter and her wand light shone to reveal Antonin and Rowle, lying there.
Their eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the ceiling, mouths hanging open.
Rowle had a nasty cut on his cheek and the left side of Antonin's face was
bruised and bloody from where he had landed on broken china and glass.
 
"Ennevarte." Muttered Astoria at each of them in turn. They both got unsteadily
to their feet, blinking hard and staring around the cafe. Again, she pointed
her wand at the pair of them to counter the'Obliviarte' charm. "Come." Astoria
said. "We must make haste to return to his Lordship."
 
Antonin and Rowle grasped each of her hands as they all turned on the spot to
apparate back into the throne room of Slytherin Castle. Astoria then found
herself stood before the Dark Lord's throne, Antonin and Rowle behind her, her
whole body trembling. As she glanced back at the pair of them, she saw for the
very first time, what looked like fear flash across Antonin's face.
 
"Explain" said the Dark Lord, coldly.
 
Astoria could barely form her words, such was her terror. "I- I arrived in the-
the, M-muggle cafe to find my Lord husband duelling Potter and the Mudblood. R-
Rowle, was incapacitated at the time and had appeared to- to.... have had his
memory wiped my- my L-lord. My-my Lord husband also succumbed to-to this. I did
the best- the best I could to reverse the-the effects. P-Potter seems to have
escaped, my Lord."
 
At her words, the Dark Lord let out a scream of fury and pointed his wand
straight at her. Astoria was suddenly smashed into the opposite wall, feeling
as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. She landed in a crumpled heap
upon the floor, as the Dark Lord began to punish Antonin and Rowle with the
Cruciatus curse over and over again for their failure, their yells of pain
echoing around the hall as the other Death Eaters watched on. Though she was
hurting, Astoria could not quite suppress a hint of triumph as she beheld
Antonin writhing on the floor in as she, herself had once done. This feeling of
triumph was short lived however. After the torture, Antonin had taken out all
his rage and humiliation out on Astoria. When they returned to Greengrass
Palace that night, he had viciously raped her, littering her body with bruises
and bite marks, leaving her to weep into her pillow.
***** XI. - A Change *****
Chapter Summary
     Here we have a major change in Astoria's life and its psychological
     effects on her.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Antonin’s black rage had not abated since the furore at the Muggle café.  Two
morn’s past, Antonin had commanded Astoria to pleasure him with her mouth,
right then and there at the breakfast table. Astoria had foolishly refused and
ran from him. Antonin had followed her calmly throughout the palace, knowing
that there was nowhere for her to escape. “Come out, come out my love” he had
crowed horribly after her. “Come out and let me play with you.” Antonin finally
caught Astoria in the library at the end of the East wing. There, he had rammed
his length into her mouth, making her gag and almost vomit. Afterward, Antonin
had slammed her onto a mahogany desk, where he had bent over her and snarled in
her ear, “Do you know how I served my first wife when she displeased me?” He
punctuated each act of tearing her garb off with awful, terrifying words.
“First, I burned out her eyes.” He tore the top of her bodice. “Then, I slashed
open her throat.” He tore at the thin corset. “And then, I watched her bleed
like a stuck sow” he finished, as he tore away the last of her underwear. “So,
you had best learn to be an obedient little wife, or it will go ill for you.”
Antonin sneered, as he pulled her towards him to take his pleasure between her
thighs.
 
Astoria was shaking once the ordeal was done as Mary and Iddi led her, half
naked to the gold wrought lift behind the stairs to take her back up to her
bedchamber. When they had arrived, Iddi disappeared with a loud 'Crack!' Just
after squeakily informing them that she would be fetching a calming potion.
Astoria felt very odd and rather sick. "Madam, if I may I be so bold?" Asked
Mary, tentatively, as she got to work on Astoria's blackened eye at the
glittering crystal dressing table in her bedchamber, her hands shaking.
 
Astoria's lilac eyes swivelled towards her sharply from their vacant gaze
across the room. "I suppose so, why not" She replied in a dead voice. "Speak
what is in your mind."
 
"Well, it is regarding Master Dolohov, Madam" Mary said in a rush, Astoria
still staring at her. "If I know, and I think I do, men of his- his, nature-"
 
"There is not a man like him in all of the world, Mary." Astoria said, flatly.
"Say what you mean."
 
"Well," she said again, still very anxiously. "While I believe that Master
Dolohov derives great pleasure from tears, he also likes smiles. I mean to say,
he wants a wife who will laugh at his jests, bat her lashes, make him feel good
and do everything he says. Even if he knows your kisses are borne out of fear,
that is what feeds his lust for power and control. What I am trying to say,
Madam, is that you need to play the game; he wants you to obey him, fear him
and love him. Or I dread to think what will become of you."
 
There was a ringing silence.
 
"Was that a jest?" Astoria whispered, too enraged to even shout. "How could
you...how could you even suggest such a thing? Leave me. Now." Mary looked on
the point of saying more, but the habit of obedience ran deep and there was
something in Astoria's face that made her back away out of the room. Astoria
sat there with shock, anger and revulsion coursing through her like poison. She
could not believe what Mary had just said to her, how dare she? After
everything she knew Antonin had done to her, she wanted her to play the adoring
wife? Pretend to want him in her bed each night? And for what, to spare her
life? Astoria Greengrass was not remotely afraid of dying any longer, she had
now come to realise that there were worse things than death and if necessary,
would see to her own deliverance, somehow. Astoria made her way unsteadily to
the gilded bed. Gold brocade curtains scalloped with ivory lace framed the
elaborate bed carvings in the likenesses of dragons and roses. Matching ivory,
ostrich feathers spouted out of the top of the curtains, brushing the high
ceiling. She collapsed beneath the heavily embroidered duvets and silken
sheets. Astoria's flesh was clammy, and her breasts ached, she felt very unwell
as she drifted into a troubled sleep. The sky outside was as black as pitch
when Astoria woke, feeling nauseous. Mary was scurrying around the room, laying
out jewels and gowns. "Mary." Astoria croaked as she attempted to rise groggily
from the bed, after which she slid back down onto her elbows when the room span
dizzily.
 
"Madam!" Cried Mary as she ran over to her. Astoria was now sweating profusely
and was twitching all over. Mary felt her brow, muttered incantations and
touched her everywhere. Astoria winced when Mary brushed by her breasts, they
were so sore now. "Madam." Mary said again, an ominous inflection in her voice.
"When was the last time you bled?" Astoria's eyes jerked open to stare,
horrified at Mary. When was the last time she bled?  She could not remember,
had it been before the wedding? Yes, she had bled a dozen days or so
beforehand, but since then, no. Everything had passed in such a daze that she
had not noticed the absence of her moonblood. Astoria began to panic when she
came to the realisation that she had not bled since she had been wed over two
moons ago. No, no not this, anything but this, it could not be. "Madam, I
believe you are- you are..." Mary's last words were drowned in Astoria's
hysterical sobs as she flung herself over the bed, beating at her stomach with
her fists. "Madam, stop, stop! I pray you!" Said Mary's distressed voice from
what seemed like very far away. Astoria merely screamed into her pillow,
incandescent with misery. This could not be, it was the very thing she had
feared from the beginning, becoming pregnant with Antonin Dolohov's child. She
would kill herself she decided, there and then, death was better than this
torture. Distantly, Astoria heard a loud 'Crack!’ Iddi had returned. Mary came
rushing over to her and pushed a crystal goblet into her hand. "Drink this
Madam, you must calm yourself."
 
Astoria gulped down the vivid blue potion and at once felt her tense muscles
beginning to relax, her racing heart beginning to slow. She raised a tear
stained face up to Mary and said, "is there naught you can do Mary?" She said
in a cracked voice. "Some-some spell or-or potion to...to rid me of this-
this..." Her voice trailed away as Mary looked on, anxiously, hands twisting
over one another.
 
"Madam, I did as you commanded, and checked over the greenhouses. And I am
sorry to say that while it has been left unattended, many of the plants within
have perished." Replied Mary, now staring at her hands.
 
"Iddi," Astoria implored, "Surely there is something in the potion cellar?"
 
"I am sorry Madam," squeaked Iddi, looking sorrowful. "Buts the only potions we
has are healing ones, those belongings to old Master Greengrass, Merlin rests
his soul" said the old House Elf, bowing her head.
 
“Madam” Mary said tentatively. “My apologies, but it is my duty to inform
Master Dolohov of your- your condition.”
 
At this, Astoria suddenly rushed towards the glass paned doors which looked out
onto a large balcony, intending to throw herself over the edge. The doors
however, did not open. Astoria rattled at them despairingly, feeling the tears
pouring down her face. "Alohomora!" Astoria begged through her sobs.
"Alohomora!"
 
"That will not work, Madam. Every door and window in the Palace has been
sealed." Mary said quietly. Astoria sank to her knees and wailed, her face in
her hands.
 
"Come, Madam." Iddi said. "Master Dolohov is wanting you to dine with him
tonight in the main Dining Hall."
 
Astoria wept harder still at Iddi's words but offered no resistance as Mary
gently pulled her to her feet, leading her to the dressing room. When all three
were stood in the dressing room in front of an elaborately carved, gold leaf
mirror, Mary and Iddi began to dress her. A pale pink, sweeping velvet gown was
chosen with pink and white pearls trimming the sleeves, neckline and bodice,
hugging every curve of her body. It was very low cut and pushed her breasts
halfway up her chest, making them look even more enormous than they already
were. Iddi slid matching velvet pink slippers onto her feet as Mary laced up
the gown at the back.
 
Astoria was seated back at her crystal dressing table when they re entered the
bedchamber. The chair was also done in crystal, the cushioned seat in
shimmering gold velvet. Mary dripped rose scent on her neck, after which she
draped ropes of pearls around it. Iddi, whom had conjured up a stool to stand
on, smoothly slid an ivory comb in the likeness of a butterfly through
Astoria's honey coloured hair. The comb was decorated with still more pearls,
which served to sweep away a curly lock that had been hanging over her right
eye. When Mary helped Astoria to her feet, she found that she was trembling,
wondering what fresh horror her husband had in store for her. Iddi hurried over
and handed her a small crystal vial full of the same vivid blue calming potion
as before. Astoria promptly drank it down in one fell swoop and made for the
door.
***** XII. - Dinner with Dolohov *****
Chapter Summary
     Here we get a glimpse of other parts of Greengrass Palace and
     Antonin's thoughts with regard to Astoria and her current condition
     and how satisfied this makes him as this gives him so much power over
     her. I also want to point out that Antonin does not love or care for
     Astoria, his courtesy is merely a sarcastic facade which is put on to
     play out his twisted fantasy.
     Same disclaimer applies.
The trip to the dining hall passed without incident, nobody speaking. Through
the corridors they went, down the butterfly staircase, left down the entrance
hall, right up another corridor until they arrived outside the huge, carved
cream and gold doors of the dining hall. Astoria faintly thought that this was
queer and wondered why they were dining in here. The dining hall was only
really used for large banquets and seated up to two hundred. The smaller dining
chamber that seated up to fifty was the most often used and situated on the
other side of the palace. The grand doors automatically swung open at her
approach, giving her a full view of the hall. It was just as she had recalled.
The mural on the ceiling depicted unicorns and Abraxan horses galloping and
soaring through the starry night sky. Deep purple carpet adorned with swirling,
interlocked dragons sprawled across the floor. Long golden tables and chairs
were lined up neatly along the hall, with a space down the centre leading up to
the head table which was on a raised plinth. As Astoria beheld the head table,
its legs carved in the likenesses of a snakes entwined with dragons, their
emerald eyes sparkling, sat Antonin, right in the middle. He had stood as soon
as she had entered the hall, his expression triumphant.
 
"Ah, there is my beautiful wife" Antonin called, his voice echoing slightly in
the empty, cavernous hall, a smile playing around his mouth. Astoria made her
way towards him, the long train of her gown sweeping the floor. Antonin smiled
and drew out the throne like chair where the Lady always sat as they had come
nearer to the table. She felt inwardly outraged with the knowledge that he had
been seated in the Lord's chair her Father had always occupied. When Astoria
finally arrived at the back of the head table, Antonin's gaze roved up and down
her form. She could tell he liked what he saw. Indeed, he then went on to say,
"You look absolutely ravishing this evening my love." Antonin gave her a kiss
on the cheek and lightly brushed her waist with one of his hands. His eyes
seemed to pop as he began to ogle at her breasts. "Mary, Iddi you are
dismissed" he went on, still staring, and Astoria heard a loud "Crack!" And a
faint ‘pop’ as they both disapparated. Antonin himself was dressed in grand,
deep green robes with golden scrollwork around the sleeves and hems. He bowed,
gestured towards Astoria’s chair and pushed it in for her when she sat. After
Antonin had been seated he turned to her and leaned in, giving her an
unpleasant smile. "So," he said softly, reaching out to rest his hand over her
belly, his fingers stroking her gently through the pink velvet. "Mary informs
me, that you are carrying my child."
 
Astoria's blood seemed to turn to ice. She desperately wanted to knock away his
hand and scream that she would rather die than have his wretched child, but she
knew this reaction would only end with her naked, bruised and bleeding upon the
floor. "It seems so, husband." She replied quietly, inclining her head. With a
look of the utmost satisfaction, Antonin snapped his fingers as food and wine
appeared in front of them. Roasted pigeons slathered in buttered gravy took
pride of place. Creamed potatoes, boiled green beans, small meat pies and
honeyed turnips were all laid out on golden platters and dishes. It looked to
be enough for six people or more rather than two. The sight of all the food
made Astoria feel unwell, it was all so rich, and she craved something simple,
but was not about to argue.
 
"May I serve you my lady? A woman in your...ah, condition, needs to get plenty
of nourishment" Antonin said, smirking slightly.
 
"I should be be delighted" she murmured back, again, not daring to rebuff him.
 
"Water for you, I think, it will not serve for you to have wine for the nonce"
he continued, with a good imitation at grace.
 
"As you say, my Lord" Astoria replied. At her words, his mouth gave a
pleasurable twist as though he was trying hard not to laugh with glee. He
served Astoria a bit of everything and laid the plate down in front of her.
 
"Eat up, eat up" Antonin said, serving himself healthy portions from every
golden dish.
 
Astoria forced herself to eat the rich food, focusing on the swirling likeness
of a sea serpent painted onto her china plate, as it coiled gracefully around
the surface. Antonin had drunk a lot of wine, his intermittent groping of her
had become more frequent with every minute that had ticked past and every
goblet that disappeared down his throat. He would rub his hand up and down her
thigh, grab at her breasts and give her wet, sloppy kisses on the mouth. When
they rose to retire up to their chambers, Antonin had evidently decided that he
could not wait any longer to bed her. As they were walking from the table, he
shoved Astoria down onto it, yanking up her skirts and shoving his length
inside of her. Antonin’s moans contrasted oddly with the china and goblets
rattling on the table from the force of his pumping, kissing her neck hard and
burying his face between her breasts. After he was done, Antonin scooped
Astoria up in his arms and strode up to the large doors at the end of the
dining hall. He made his way through the entrance hall and up the many stairs
toward their apartments. Antonin shoved his shoulder into the door of the
Lady's bedchamber to open it.
 
"Mary! Iddi!" He snapped. They both appeared at once as he set her back down on
her feet. "Get my wife undressed and bring her to my bed when you are done."
Antonin then spun on his heel and went striding through the connecting door
towards the Lord's bedchamber. Minutes later, Astoria was led by Iddi and Mary
through the dining chamber and into the Lord's bedchamber wearing a silken,
pale blue bed robe that pooled onto the floor. The Lord’s Bedchamber was twice
the size of her own with a high domed ceiling and a painted mural of a dragon
flying across a black sea. The room was extravagantly decorated in green and
gold and all the furniture was carved with dragons and snakes. Antonin was
sprawled naked on the Emperor bed fondling himself, his large erection jutting
out from his lean body. Mary and Iddi averted their eyes as he said, lazily,
"you may go." And they both vanished at once. The gate to the golden balustrade
surrounding the bed automatically creaked open at Astoria's approach. She stood
at the edge of the bed, nervously waiting for Antonin to tell her what he
wanted her to do. Antonin had gotten up from the bed, still touching himself
and walked up to her. He unknotted the tasselled, silk ropes of her robe and
slid the garment off her body, bunching it up in one hand and throwing it
across the room. She stood before him, naked and trembling. It revolted her to
think that Antonin was going to rape her in the very bed her Farther had died
in. "I wanted to see you plain." He said, stepping behind her to brush her
golden hair away from her neck, nuzzling there, grasping her sore breasts hard
as he did so. Astoria gritted her teeth at the pain but did not cry out. She
could feel his member pressing into her backside. "You are with child, but your
body shows no signs of it, soon enough though, soon enough...I do hope it is a
boy" he whispered in her ear, pushing her onto the bed.
 
***** XIII. - The Attempt *****
Chapter Summary
     Now we delve deeper into Astoria's psyche, how she feels and the
     steps she takes with regard to her situation. Also, there is a
     glimpse into what Voldemort's future plans are, now that Britain and
     Ireland are under his control. There is more coming with regard to
     this in a couple of chapters or so.
     See end of chapter for notes.
     Same disclaimer applies. Any similarities between this and real life
     cases are coincidental, inspirational and not intended to make profit
     from anyone's alleged story.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 Astoria spent the next few days being violently sick. Mary said that this was
a common side effect of pregnancy, though she could not answer all of Astoria's
many questions. Having never finished her instruction in Healing, Mary did not
know a terrible amount with regard to childbearing. Astoria had never known her
Mother, so she had no one to ask or tell her about these things as she
approached womanhood. Her Father would have probably fainted with horror if she
had ever broached the subject. Though he never said it, in his view, matters
such as birth and children were strictly the province of women, not to be
interfered with or discussed. Antonin was not amused by Astoria’s affliction,
however. In fact, he was disgusted and enraged seeing as this meant he could
not bed her, which he said loudly and often, was his absolute right as her
husband. He had furiously demanded that Mary fix the annoyance and declared
that he would find whatever she needed to counter the effects. Thus, Iddi cared
for Astoria while Mary was down in the library, frantically searching through
old Healing books. Half a dozen days later, Astoria was awoken one morn by Mary
coming timidly into her bedchamber, carrying a golden tray with a delicate
china cup atop it which was steaming. Astoria was horrified to see that Mary's
throat was covered in half healed choke marks and her hands were shaking,
making the cup rattle in its saucer.
 
What had he done to her?
 
Astoria had a very unpleasant feeling that she already knew the answer to that
question. One look in Mary’s eyes told her all she needed to know. Evidently,
Antonin had decided that if he could not have Astoria during her period of
sickness, he would have Mary instead. How much more horror could she endure?
Astoria thought, despairingly, wanting to weep. Antonin strode in after Mary, a
look of mingled smugness and excitement upon his long, pale face, his cold blue
eyes staring at her.
 
"Drink" Antonin had commanded Astoria, as Mary held out the tray before her.
Astoria drank the vivid red liquid and felt a queer, warm feeling in her
stomach as the nausea vanished. Mary took the cup back on the tray. "Now go.
The pair of you." He said to Mary and Iddi in a hard voice, still not taking
his eyes off Astoria. He was panting hard and fumbling at the top buttons of
his collar. Once Antonin had undressed, he had leapt onto the bed and torn off
Astoria’s sleeping silks to reveal her nakedness beneath. He had taken her over
and over again for close to an hour in every way a man can have a woman.
Antonin wore a contented grin as he swaggered out of her bedchamber. Astoria
had been left exhausted by the ordeal, too tired to even weep and gave herself
up to slumber.
 
Mercifully, Antonin had left Greengrass Palace a week later for Eastern Europe.
He had informed her over luncheon that the Dark Lord wanted to cut off any
potential opposition that may come from Asia or Russia, first conquering the
smaller countries first before striking at France, Spain or Germany. The Dark
Lord was particularly interested in conquering France, the Muggleborn Minister
for Magic who ruled there had been fiercely outspoken against the Dark Order
and was planning to put up a fight should they be invaded. The Dark Lord was
intent on making him answer for his behaviour; Astoria inwardly dreaded what
his Lordship had in store for the French Minister for Magic.
 
The morn after Antonin had left, Astoria had made a decision. After breakfast,
she had informed Mary and Iddi that she was going to the gardens for a walk.
However, when Astoria reached the butterfly staircase, she had slowly hoisted
herself up onto the edge of the velvet covered bannister, gazed at the hall
below and shut her eyes. She was trembling slightly, her slippers unbalancing
her a little. Was there an afterlife? Would she come back as a ghost, forced to
glide throughout Greengrass Palace for eternity? If there was anything beyond
death, she would meet her Mother and Brother, she would see Father again. That
thought was an inexpressible comfort to her, and even if it was not so, surely
it would be better to lie cold and still, where Antonin Dolohov could no longer
torment her and force her to birth his children. Astoria jumped. She landed on
the purple carpet with a crash, pain hitting her all over her body.
 
“Madam! Iddi squeaked, horrified. “Oh Madam!” Her cries echoing with Mary’s as
they both converged upon her. Astoria was distantly aware of Mary mending her
broken ribs and arms.
 
“No.” Astoria croaked. “No, let me die, let me die!”
 
“Madam, I cannot allow you to do this to yourself, you must not despair!” Mary
said hurriedly, still mending her injuries. “In any case, if Master Dolohov
returns to find you- to find you gone, he will kill us! He will kill Iddi and
I!” She went on, tears now pouring down her face.
 
Her Mother’s likeness in the portrait was weeping. “My baby, oh my poor baby
Astoria!” she cried. Her Father and Brother were yelling incoherently as Mary
led her to the velvet padded lift behind the staircase.
 
Two moons had waxed and waned since Astoria had attempted to take her own life
and she was beginning to look quite obviously pregnant by now, her stomach had
a gentle curve to it and her breasts had increased in size. These changes to
her body only served to make her more miserable. This was supposed to be one of
the happiest times in her life and she found it horrifying with every day that
went past. One late night however, as the rain lashed the windows of Greengrass
Palace, this all changed. As Astoria was staring blankly up at the gold
curtains framing her vast bed, she suddenly felt a movement in her stomach. She
started, surprised and unsure about what was happening, and for the first time
she appreciated that she was carrying a baby.A baby. An innocent baby, who had
not asked to be created. Even though it had been fathered by Antonin, that was
something, as far as Astoria was concerned, that it could not help. Then, some
of the vast, empty loneliness inside her heart evaporated. This child was hers,
not Antonin Dolohov’s and she would do everything within her power to love and
protect it. As the fluttering movements inside her continued, Astoria felt a
warmth she had never felt before and drifted off into a contended sleep. The
morn afterward, she was awoken by Antonin striding into her bedchamber from
next door, charcoal robes swirling. So he had returned.
 
“Tonight.” He announced without preamble, "We are to attend the wedding of
Elizabeth Nott and my comrade, Corban Yaxley. See that you wear something
nice.” He added brusquely. After Antonin had taken his pleasure of her, as was
his wont every morn, Mary and Iddi crept into the bedchamber.
 
“Mary,” Astoria said in a tired voice. “I need something suitable to wear for a
wedding tonight. Something pretty.”
 
None of Astoria’s gowns were like to fit her at present, seeing as all were
tightly laced at the bodice and would not accommodate her growing stomach.
 
“Iddi and I shall craft something for you Madam.” Replied Mary. “Do you have a
particular preference?”
 
“Pale blue, I think.” Said Astoria. “And sapphires” she added as an
afterthought.
 
“I shall hasten to the fabric room below.” Mary curtsied low and left the room.
 
The fabric room deep below Greengrass Palace held mountains of silk, velvet,
furs and jewels to make garments for the palace residents. Greengrass’ were not
in the habit of travelling to seamstresses and robe fitters, such pathetic
excursions were beneath them, or so Father had always said.
Chapter End Notes
     So I decided that Astoria would love her unplanned child, even if it
     was borne of rape. If she did not, then I felt this would be dull,
     with her eventually killing her children etc. and a recurring cycle
     of abuse, which we have already seen previously. My main inspiration
     for this was the testimony of women who were both held captive by
     their rapists and have indicated that they had no longer felt alone
     when they felt their babies move within them.
***** XIV - The Union of Yaxley and Nott *****
Chapter Summary
     In this chapter we see more non canon Death Eaters/characters, plus
     we get more info on Silas Norton and his family history/
     disfigurement. I decided that the Norton's would be part of the
     Twenty Eight, taking the place of the Crouch's seeing as the House is
     now extinct in the original books. There is also more info on the
     treatment of Muggles and Voldemort's future plans for them. We also
     get more contact between Narcissa and Astoria.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Mary had crafted Astoria a beautiful gown to wear that evening. It was pale
blue just as she had asked, and its long sleeves trimmed with pure white mink
and sapphires almost touched the floor. The gown was long, flowing and fitted
under her breasts rather than at the waist to fall over the gentle curve of her
belly. White silken gloves that finished at her wrists adorned her hands, and
more sapphires encrusted with diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat. Antonin
then came striding into the room clad in blood red velvet dress robes, a
matching, jewelled cravat at his throat.
 
Antonin bowed low and said, “You look lovely this evening my lady, absolutely
stunning.”
 
“You honour me with your sweet words, husband.” Astoria replied at once,
knowing that this was what he wanted to hear. Mary had been right in urging her
to please Antonin as much as possible and now, she could see that it made him
more agreeable.
 
They were to travel to Yaxley Fortress by carriage flown by the Abraxan horses,
seeing as apparition was impossible in Astoria’s current condition. Mary
fastened a white mink cloak around Astoria’s neck and drew up the hood. “Your
carriage awaits.” Said Antonin with a sinister smile when he himself had also
been cloaked by Mary. As usual, Astoria took his proffered hand and allowed him
to lead her through the palace and down to the courtyard where the large,
silvery carriage was waiting on the purple marble. The horses were eager to
leave, tossing their beautiful heads and pawing the ground, making their
elaborate, ostrich plumed headpieces rustle softly. “After you, my love.” Said
Antonin gracefully. Astoria obeyed and sat inside the crushed velvet interior
of the carriage. There were no windows, but a large crystal in the shape of a
dragon was in the centre of the roof, dimly lighting the space. Antonin slid in
beside her, closing the door with a wave of his wand. They took off with a
slight jolt and were soon soaring through the night sky, the muffled sounds of
the wind filling the silence. Astoria was staring at the opposite wall when she
felt Antonin lean over to stroke the swell of her stomach. It made the hairs on
the back of her neck stand on end. She glanced down at his lap and saw that he
was becoming aroused. With an enormous effort, she forced herself to look into
his face.
 
“So, what is it?” Antonin asked, abruptly.
 
“What is what, husband?” replied Astoria, taken aback.
 
“The child.” Said Antonin impatiently, ceasing his stroking so that his hand
merely rested there. “Will I be getting a son or a daughter?” He spoke the last
word contemptuously.
 
“I-I do not yet know.” Astoria said, starting to feel scared.
 
“To be sure a daughter would be disappointing” he went on. “But I hope-" he
then tightened his hand over her belly. “That for your sake, you do not produce
me a filthy little Squib.”
 
“N-no” she said, voice now trembling. “N-never, there has never-never been a
Squib born into the Greengrass family for t-twenty thousand years.” 
 
“Good” Antonin leered.
 
Antonin had begun to grope at her, but was stopped from doing more when the
carriage landed on the ground with a thud. A flicker of annoyance crossed his
face as he turned around to open the door with another flick of his wand. The
night air was chill as they stepped outside to behold the gloomy castle that
was Yaxley Fortress. It was an imposing building done in charcoal stone
encircled by a moat, its high battlements lost in grey cloud. The drawbridge to
the castle creaked and the spikes from the gate hung threateningly above as she
and Antonin walked into the courtyard. Antonin led her right into the main
hall. Astoria faintly heard the sounds of excited chatter and laughing in the
distance, but it was only the two of them in the hall, their footsteps echoing
slightly on the stone floor. Suits of Goblin made armour framed the long
walkway and there were countless weapons adorning the walls: axes, swords,
spears and picks, their metal gleaming slightly from the fire sconces set in
the wall. At the end of the hall hung the Yaxley family crest, a jet black
roaring Hydra on a blood red shield.
 
They at last came to a large chamber at the end of the entrance hall. It was
decorated in red and black velvet, a massive, glittering, black chandelier in
the centre of the ceiling was glowing dimly. More weapons and suits of armour
were everywhere, the walls were painted with red snakes, the large windows
carved elaborately with wood as black as jet. All this served to make the
chamber gloomy and foreboding and Astoria did not like it at all. Cries of
welcome erupted as she and Antonin both appeared in the black stone archway,
and Edward Travers came striding over to them.
 
“Dolohov, my boy!” Travers cried, and reached up to clap Antonin on the back.
His cold grey eyes then found Astoria, resting for a moment on her stomach.
“And you have brought the lovely Madam Dolohov, charming!” Travers bowed low
and kissed her gloved hand. “May I offer my congratulations on the child my
dear. If I may be so bold, Motherhood seems to be agreeing with you my lady,
you are looking most radiant.”
 
Astoria inclined her head with a small smile and replied, “You are most kind,
Edward.” 
 
Travers then turned back to Antonin, chuckling heartily. “You got onto that
pretty quick old boy, my goodness!” he gave Antonin a good natured cuff on the
arm and winked at him. “Nice work.” And Antonin gave Travers a satisfied smirk.
 
As they moved further into the room they came face to face with Lucius and
Draco. “Ah, good eve to you, Lucius, Draco” crowed Antonin. Antonin
deliberately and obviously ran his hand over Astoria’s belly and gave her a
kiss on the cheek, all the while surveying Draco with a vindictive sort of
pleasure, knowing how much this was upsetting him.
 
“Very nice to see the both of you.” Lucius replied, stiffly. “I congratulate
you on the child.”
 
“You are too kind, Lucius.” Smirked Antonin, a triumphant look upon his face.
 
“I pray that you shall have many more” continued Lucius, still in that stiff,
forced tone. At this, Draco spun around and began to stride out of the room,
his expression anguished.
 
“As do I.” Antonin replied. He nodded sneeringly at Lucius and led Astoria
further into the chamber.
 
 Yet more wizards and their wives converged upon them, offering similar words
of felicitations, the witches kissing Astoria’s cheeks and their husbands
wringing Antonin’s hand. Thus, she said the words she needed to say, thanked
them and smiled sweetly, all of which mercifully seemed to please her husband.
Antonin led Astoria towards where Corban Yaxley was stood, clad in bridegroom
robes and surrounded by family members. Antonin let go of her hand, and he and
Yaxley embraced like brothers. Astoria paid no mind to their chatter and was
then approached by Adelaide Yaxley, Corban’s younger half sister. Adelaide was
at least two decades younger than Corban’s forty or so years, and had been
fathered by Corban Yaxley Senior with his second wife, Agatha. Adelaide was a
fairly pretty witch, she had long blonde hair, was tall and slender with pale
green eyes and very good teeth. Though Astoria rather thought that the arrogant
expression constantly worn upon Adelaide’s face, for all its beauty, still made
her resemble her hard faced brother, Corban.
 
After they had kissed one another’s cheeks, Adelaide said, “Ahh, you are so
lucky you know, I can scarcely wait to be married myself and do my duty for the
Dark Order by giving my Lord husband a son.” Her pale green eyes looked dreamy
for a moment. Astoria inwardly grimaced and was bursting to say that she very
much doubted that Adelaide would appreciate having her garb being ripped off by
a crowd of drunken wizards, or else being the personal property of a husband
who could do whatever he pleased with her, whether she willed it or no.
 
“Indeed.” Astoria lied. “I am sure your noble brother shall find a suitable
match for you soon.”
 
Adelaide sighed passionately. “I do hope it is Josiah Zabini” and she shot a
quick glance over the room at Josiah, elder brother to Blaise Zabini. Josiah
was chatting animatedly to Silas Norton, a goblet of wine in his slender hand.
“I know the Zabini’s aren’t in the Twenty Eight, but their bloodlines are
impeccable.” She gushed, rapturously.
 
Astoria privately felt that Adelaide would most like be matched with Travers,
Jugson or some other top ranking Death Eater who was unwed. Only the longest
serving Death Eaters would get first pick of the youngest, most beautiful
witches for their wives. ‘The spoils of war, just like myself,’Astoria thought
bitterly. To be sure, Josiah, a tall, handsome black skinned man of twenty five
years was comely enough, but Astoria had heard tell of his cruelty. He had been
among those, Antonin included, who had burst into a Muggle school and murdered
all within, torturing them for a sustainable amount of time beforehand.
Afterward, they had piled the bodies in a bloody heap outside the school
entrance and set them alight. Astoria shoved away these ugly thoughts and
continued to talk with Adelaide.
 
“I have heard some witches try for half a year or more before they are blessed
with a child. How did you become with child so quickly?” Adelaide then asked,
curiously.
 
‘Repeated rape.’Astoria thought, grimly. Astoria was groping for an answer but
was spared having to reply as Antonin was beckoning her over toward him, still
talking and laughing with Yaxley. She muttered a hasty farewell to Adelaide and
stepped towards them, catching the last of their conversation.
 
“…I shall just have to take a leaf out of your book Antonin!” Yaxley chortled.
Hopefully Elizabeth and I will have a son within the year.”
 
“Come,” Antonin said to her. “We must make haste to the Binding Chapel.” He
gave Yaxley a pat on the shoulder and took her hand, as they all made for a
second stone archway at the back of the chamber.
 
The Binding Chapel of Yaxley was floored in red marble and had walls made from
jet black stone. The cavernous, rafted ceiling was made from dark wood, a steel
throne at the head of the room. The throne gave a full view of everything, the
alter, the guests, all of it. Astoria noticed that the same Binder who had been
at her own wedding was waiting at the end of the aisle, once again in grand,
burgundy robes and propped up by his dragon cane, standing next to Yaxley.
Astoria was seated in the front row between Antonin and Bellatrix Lestrange. No
sooner had Bellatrix had greeted them, everyone rose to their feet at once when
the Dark Lord came sweeping into the room, his black robes streaming out behind
him, having only just arrived. Saying nothing, he strode past Yaxley and the
Binder, making for the throne, and not until he was seated, did anyone else
take their seats.
 
A hush fell over the room as Elizabeth Nott and her Father, Edgar appeared at
the archway. Elizabeth looked stunning in a dress of ivory silk with beautiful
illustrations of butterflies and flowers embroidered on the bodice and skirts.
Her shiny, chestnut hair was done up in a French twist and rubies glittered at
her neck and ears. They made their way rather slowly up the aisle. Elizabeth’s
Father, Edgar Nott was well over sixty years and had been injured fighting the
First Uprising. As a result, he was stooped and could only take slow, shuffling
steps. Elizabeth looked nervous but excited as she approached her husband to
be, and Astoria vaguely wondered how she would take the bedding ceremony.
 
The nuptials were barely distinguishable from Astoria’s own. After the Binder
declared them ‘Bonded Forever’ the Dark Lord then spoke some similar words
regarding his ‘New World,’ Yaxley and Elizabeth took their first dance together
as husband and wife, then all proceeded to the feast. The dining hall, like the
rest of the Fortress was dark and threatening. The walls were panelled in deep
mahogany and draped with deep red silk hangings with enormous likenesses of the
Yaxley Family Crest upon them. The room would have been pitch black if it were
not lit by candlelight, which shone off of the stuffed heads of hydras,
sphynxes, minotaurs and other various monsters mounted on the wall. The effect
was almost frightening and served to twist their horrid features even more than
they were already.
 
As Astoria was being served the first course, a fillet of Flying Fish slathered
in a creamy sauce, she caught her first glimpse of Muggle slaves. When she was
looking curiously at a dozen, frightened looking men and boys who had come
scurrying into the room to line each side of the hall, Antonin had leaned over
and told her that was what they were, smirking slightly. Astoria knew that all
Muggle men and boys had been castrated and enslaved, serving in the homes of
wizards, toiling in Goblin mines for precious stones or to do ought else that
was commanded of their Masters. The women and girls had all been forced into
brothels, there to be used to fulfil every conceivable erotic desire of any
wizard. Any children they birthed as a result were taken away at once. If they
proved to be magical, they were institutionalised under the tyrannical rule of
Victoria Avery at the Purification Institute. If not, the girls were sent
straight back to the brothels and the boys were put to work. Muggle women not
deemed comely enough to keep in the brothels served as witch’s handmaids.
 
The Muggles had taken away each of the silver platters with each course that
had passed, pouring wine and serving up extra portions of food, no one paying
them any mind. Astoria and Antonin were seated on the left side of the Dark
Lord, Bellatrix to his right. Opposite were Silas and Victoria, with Adelaide
seated on Astoria’s right. The Dark Lord ate nothing and was not speaking. He
sat as still as a statue, his catlike, red eyes gazing blankly up the hall,
though he would occasionally take a sip from his goblet of wine.
 
“So, Victoria.” Antonin said. “How fares the Purification Institute?”
 
Victoria gave a smug smile. She was a pretty woman of thirty years with red
hair and blue eyes, but she had a sadistic demeanour which served to make her
incredibly ugly. Before Victoria answered, she drew out a cigarette in a short,
elegant cigarette holder crafted from gold and jewels, exactly matching the
gown hugging her curvaceous figure. “Better every day, Dolohov.” Victoria
replied, pluming vivid blue smoke in the air. “Though some of the elder brats
can be troublesome, it is nothing a few good bouts the Cruciatus curse or an
old fashioned beating will not solve.”
 
Bellatrix chortled at her words. “I believe you have the right of it, Victoria.
The Dark Lord-“ she glanced worshipfully in his direction, “-was most correct
to entrust these good works into your hands.” The Dark Lord himself gave no
sign he had heard their conversation and was still staring up the hall.
 
Astoria knew that the Purification Institute was a large stronghold in London,
built in place of the Muggle building called ‘Buckingham Palace’ after the Dark
Lord had set it ablaze and razed it to the ground. It was here that the
offspring of the Muggle and Half Blood women were sent should they prove to be
magical. As long as they were not Mudblood’s, any children left orphaned by the
war were also sent there. Astoria could not say who had it worse, the Muggles
or the Half Bloods. Half Blood women, like the Muggles were imprisoned, only in
their case they were kept for the sole purpose of being deliberatelyimpregnated
by Pure Blood wizards. The reason for this practice was to eliminate all Muggle
blood among the magical community for good and all. Astoria had heard the
horrifying tales from Adelaide at the dinner table and had no trouble in
believing them. It was said that below the Institute there were dungeons where
the witches were kept and repeatedly raped by Pure Blood’s until they became
pregnant. Once with child they were chained to their beds until it was time for
them to give birth, after which their babies were also taken away at once to be
housed upstairs. Those who did not prove fertile were either killed out of hand
or sent to the Muggle brothels. The children were to receive magical education
in the Dark Arts as soon as they were able, before being sent to Hogwarts at
the age of eleven. Astoria shuddered to imagine what it would be like for the
children growing up in a place like that, presided over by the cruel Victoria
Avery whom had been named Head of the Institute. Once the children had finished
Hogwarts, they were to be branded with the Dark Mark at once to serve in the
Dark Lord’s army. Astoria had to admit that Half Blood wizards had it easier
than the witches, for them the choice was simple, join the army or be killed.
 
“The Purification Institute?!” came Silas’ high cackle. “I am most eager to
visit there Victoria, the dungeonsin particular” he said with a salacious
smile, his face alive with a wild, devilish glee.
 
Antonin laughed and gave Silas an indulgent smile. “Now, now my boy, slow down.
You need to get yourself a wife first before you start siring bastards all over
the place.” He glanced at Astoria with a half smile as he finished.
 
 Astoria gazed at Silas from across the table, wondering how one so young could
be so twisted and evil. Silas was a petulant youth of sixteen years with hazel
eyes and sharp features. His rich brown hair was short and wavy, finishing in a
cropped fringe at the top of his forehead. Silas was of middling height and had
a small build, a common trait in the Norton family. He may even have been good
looking, if it were not for the deep red scar that ran from the beginning of
his left eyebrow and over his eyelid, finally ending at the top of his
cheekbone. The wound had caused his iris to become misshapen and turn a weak
blue with a pale milky film over it. This made Silas look incredibly sinister,
especially when he smiled. Combined with his bloodthirsty inclinations and
wicked nature, all this served to make Silas Norton downright detestable.
Silas’ disfigurement had apparently been courtesy of Kingsley Shacklebolt, or
so she had heard tell. Indeed, Astoria now recalled Silas intimating in grisly
detail of what he would do to Shacklebolt when they caught him, as they surely
must soon. Silas was the sole heir to the Norton family fortune after his
Father had been killed by Order members. His newly elevated position only
served to inflate his already over exaggerated sense of self. Though the
Norton’s were Pure Blood family, they had sought to make themselves even
wealthier by producing gin, which was aptly named ‘Norton’s.The Norton’s had
crushed all their rivals for the sale of gin with a mixture of threats,
violence and copious amounts of gold. They would burn down rival breweries and
poison their stock, or else curse the latter’s family; all the while managing
to stay out of Azkaban by handing out hefty bribes. Thus, the Norton’s vaults
flourished, and they prospered. Nobody drank any other gin but ‘Norton’s.’
 
Astoria's musings were cut off as Silas’ voice pierced through the air. “I grow
tired of feasting!” Screeched Silas, in his cold, reedy tone to the room at
large. There was a slight dip in the babble of chatter at his words and
everyone looked at him. Silas had gotten to his feet and there was near silence
now. He drained his goblet in one and flung it away, hard, to shatter on the
mahogany wall. He exchanged a gleeful look with Antonin whom was also grinning.
“I think it is fitting that we bed them, my Lord!” Silas shrieked, glancing at
the Dark Lord, who gave him a curt nod.
 
As expected, the dining hall erupted with shouting and cheering, all the
wizards charging toward the bride. Antonin had gotten to Elizabeth first after
leaping up from his chair, his face filled with malicious excitement. He had
torn her gown right down the back so that she had to hold the fabric to her
chest to prevent her from being completely exposed. At this, Elizabeth had
burst into tears. Astoria gazed at the scene with a mixture of shock and
sympathy. It was odd to see Elizabeth’s usually cold, proud features crumble
like that as all the wizards converged upon her, proceeding to rip the gown
from her body, and Astoria was revolted to see that Theodore, Elizabeth’s own
brother, was joining in. Yes, Elizabeth was cruel and had a nasty nature, but
no woman deserves to go through this horrific ritual, Astoria thought, as she
saw Edward Travers and Josiah Zabini dragging the sobbing, half naked bride out
of the room. The Dark Lord had also taken his leave after the bedding party,
Bellatrix trailing after him. His Lordship was not about to join in, Astoria
knew, but he was not about to stay out here with all the witches either, who
were not permitted to join the bedding ceremony and were now all happily
chatting to one another.
 
“…She will get over it.” Astoria heard Victoria say casually. Astoria looked up
at her. “Yes,” she went on, giving a toss of her scarlet tresses and lighting
up another cigarette. “Astoria is fine now, are you not dear?” she asked with a
slight smile.
 
“Yes, to be sure.” Astoria lied.
 
“I daresay I was rather impressed with the grace and composure that you
comported yourself with during your own bedding, Astoria. No silly mewling and
shrieking from you was there?” Victoria went on, taking a sip of wine from her
goblet. “Nevertheless, I am glad that it is unlikely that I shall be wed
anytime soon, age does indeed have its compensations!” she laughed.
 
Astoria merely inclined her head in reply. In truth she had been too petrified
to even scream or cry at her own bedding. She knew that Victoria was now a
widow, and had once been wed to Felix Selwyn, younger brother to Walter Selwyn,
but he had been killed in battle less than half a year ago. Victoria did not
seem to be taking the loss of her husband to heart. She had given Felix one son
named Frederick, Astoria knew. It was said the boy, who was now eleven years,
was growing up headstrong and disobedient, often causing havoc at Hogwarts,
where he now attended. Though Victoria, who had been proven to brutalise the
children in her own care at the Purification Institute, was said to do nothing
to try and curb Frederick's wild behaviour, merely calling him 'spirited'.
 
Astoria was then distracted by another voice behind her, soft and quiet. “May I
have a seat?” It was Narcissa.
 
“You may,” Astoria replied, privately feeling that she had no choice. She was
not about to argue or make trouble after all, Antonin would be enraged.
 
Most of her anger at Narcissa had abated by now, it would do her no good
holding onto it. Being angry all the time was like drinking poison and
expecting the other to die. Astoria surmised that Narcissa was still abusing
opium. She was skeletally thin with sunken eyes, her skin was very pale, the
glittering black gown was hanging off her gaunt limbs and she was sweating
bullets. Narcissa’s diamond necklace glittered in the candlelight over her
sharply defined collarbones as she sat, and Astoria could see the top of her
ribcage between her breasts
 
“We have not yet had a chance to speak.” Narcissa said, glancing about the
room. “I wondered if there was anything you wanted to ask about…about… bearing
children.”
 
Astoria stared at her. “Well, I am anxious to know what is in store for me when
the time finally comes.” She replied.
 
“There will be pain.” Narcissa said seriously. “Terrible pain. But the end
result will be worth everything you will have suffered a thousand times over.”
She lowered her voice considerably. “I know you do not love Dolohov. And though
you may not love him, you may find that you love his children, you-“
 
Astoria cut her off. “I do love the child already, and I am determined to keep
it safe and happy with every bone in my body.” She said firmly. “This baby is
minenot his, no matter what anyone may say.” She finished.
 
Narcissa gave her a small smile. “Well, I am glad for you, Tori, at least that
is something.”
 
Yes.Astoria thought, at least that was something.
 
Chapter End Notes
     As stated before, one of my inspirations for this/The Purification
     Institute are the Serbian wars where women were locked up and forced
     to become pregnant as a form of ethnic cleansing. Other inspirations
     include the Nazis/Hitler Youth. I think this chapter also shows how
     deadened Voldemort is to social interactions with 'normal' (if
     somewhat evil) people and how inhuman he is. I have always tried to
     keep Lord V more or less canon compliant.
     Hydra - A mythological monster from Greek mythology. It is a sea
     serpent which was said to have seven to nine heads and a double tail.
***** XV. - New Life *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter focuses on Astoria's attitude to Motherhood.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Astoria had hoped that her rapidly growing stomach would discourage her
husband’s desire for her, but no. If anything, her pregnancy only seemed to
inflame Antonin’s passions even more. He would continue to bed her over and
over, constantly asking her the sex of the child as he had done so previously,
annoyed when she could not give him an answer. Antonin was often away
campaigning for the Dark Lord in Europe, but every so often he would come back
to Greengrass Palace for a weekend or so, and Astoria would have a visitor in
the night. When she was in his presence, the baby would move restlessly within
her, as though it could sense her fright.
 
Near three lunar cycles had passed since the Yaxley wedding and an eighteen
year old Astoria was now heavily pregnant. The child moved within her
constantly and often kept her awake at night. One morning when she was sewing
in the drawing room she called Mary over after a particularly hard kick.
 
"Mary! Come, come feel Mary." Mary came over and tentatively touched the large
curve of Astoria's belly. 'Do you feel it? It is as though the child is talking
to us. Oh, dearest Mary, I am going to love this baby so much...I love it
already." She sighed, weakly.
 
"I am happy for you, Madam." Mary replied, with a slightly odd expression on
her face as she turned and took her place back by the wall.
 
Astoria knew what Mary was thinking; how could Astoria possibly love the child
of a brutal monster like Antonin Dolohov, a child who was a product of rape.
She could not expect Mary to understand.  Astoria knew that Mary too had also
been raped by Antonin on several occasions, but had never quickened. Mary had
not felt the mix of emotions Astoria had when the baby had first moved inside
her, how it felt as it began to grow, making her feel far less alone. Astoria
sighed and called for Mary once again to help her to her feet.
 
As December dawned, Astoria began to grow nervous. Mary had concluded that she
would most likely give birth sometime in December. Astoria was eager to meet
her child, but was still frightened of what would happen when the time came to
bring it into the world. She had flipped through some of the old Healing books
in the library and discovered sketches in the chapters on childbearing which
depicted women screaming in pain. Horrid metal instruments were also pictured,
which were used for when complications arose, seeing as it could be extremely
harmful to both Mother and child to use any magical interference and could even
result in Squibs.
 
Astoria had stayed slender throughout her pregnancy, but her belly was now
enormous. Her naval had popped and she could no longer see her feet when she
stood. As a result, she needed help to do most everything. Stairs were now
impossible, and she had been forced to go into confinement because of her
inability to walk more than a dozen steps due to her constantly aching back
from the heavy weight of the baby inside her. Her breasts, which had almost
doubled in size now, would often leak milk, ruining whatever she was wearing so
that she had to change. She tired easily and felt unwaveringly big and
uncomfortable. This was not helped when Antonin had returned to the Palace and
paid her a twilight visit half a dozen nights ago. He had been drunk and rather
rough, and she had pleaded with him to be gentler.
 
“The baby, Antonin! The baby, please! Don’t!” she had protested weakly.
 
Astoria’s protests had only earned her the back of Antonin’s hand, and she
merely lay there, allowing him to pull her legs apart and have his way so he
would not be any more violent and harm the child within. The next morn, Antonin
had run a hand over her large stomach. “So, how long until it is time for you
to push that thing out?” He had asked sleepily, propping himself up onto his
forearm so that he was looking down at her. Antonin reached out with his free
hand to trace her naval idly with a slight frown on his face, looking
thoughtful. The baby began to move, almost as if mirroring her own anxiety as
he began to touch her stomach all over. For one horrifying moment, Astoria
thought Antonin was considering whether or not to cut the baby out of her,
right then and there, it was the sort of monstrous thing he would do. But no.
He merely sighed, rolled her onto her side so that her back was to him and
jerked up her leg to take his morning pleasure. Afterward, Astoria was
struggling to get up. Antonin glanced over at her and not bothering to help, he
merely barked, “Mary! Iddi!” They both appeared at once. “Help my wife out of
bed, see that she is washed and returned there at once to continue her
confinement. Now!” Mary and Iddi jumped at the snap in his voice and hastened
to obey immediately.
 
Antonin had not stayed long at the Palace on that occasion, in fact he had left
that very same morn after giving Astoria a sloppy kiss on the mouth and saying
he wanted his son ready and waiting for him when he returned. Antonin seemed to
have convinced himself that she was carrying a boy and she was dreading what he
would say or do if the baby turned out to be a girl. Astoria had been relieved
when he was gone, she had known that her baby could have come any day soon and
she had not wanted him to be there when she finally gave birth. She did not
think she could stand it if Antonin were to insist on being in the actual room
when it happened if he was in residence.
 
By mid December though, Astoria had still not given any signs she was fit to
birth. By this point she was huge, it was as though she had been pregnant
forever and she just wanted it over and done with, the waiting was killing her.
One crisp winter morn however, as Mary and Iddi were leading Astoria to her
bathing suite, she suddenly went rigid and stopped dead. “Madam?” Mary asked.
“Madam what is it?” Astoria did not answer but began to shake violently,
clutching at her belly. Warm liquid was gushing between her thighs and the
muscles of her enlarged stomach hardened. Mary gave a gasp of shock as the
fluid pooled on the carpet, darkening the pale gold colour. “Madam, Madam! You
must get back into bed at once!” Astoria grabbed Mary’s arm as she staggered
back to the bed. Astoria was unable to breathe properly, taking in great
mouthfuls of air rapidly and began to weep. The room span out of focus and she
was in a whirl of blind panic. “Madam!” Mary cried, grasping her by the
shoulder, “Madam, you must breathe!”
 
Astoria attempted to get her breathing back to normality, the sharp pangs in
her belly getting stronger and more frequent. She tore at her sleeping shift,
trying to get it off as she found she could not stand the feel of anything on
her skin. Mary hurried over and pulled out a small silver knife from the pocket
of her robes to cut it off her, leaving her nude. An hour later she was openly
wailing as the pain slammed her womb over and over again. Every time she tried
to speak, she only managed to utter a strangled moan of pain. It felt as though
she was being stabbed in her stomach, as if someone was twisting her womb with
cruel clawed hands. The agony from her contracting stomach hit her all over her
body in waves, each one more terrible than the last. This was more agonising
than any curse. It went on for hours and hours, Astoria squirming and moaning
upon the bed all the while. She was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily,
her legs wide open and shaking as Mary and Iddi peered between them
periodically.
 
The next morn, Astoria had still not birthed her child, she was exhausted and
very distressed. “I cannot!” She cried to Mary, “I cannot bear this any longer,
I will die from this pain!”
 
“There, there Madam, I do not think it will be long now. You must push! Hard!”
Replied Mary in a shaky voice.
 
Iddi dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth, looking worried. “Madam Dolohov, you
musts tries you musts! Justs like your Mother dids, Madam Greengrass!” The old
elf squeaked.
 
Astoria gave another moan of pain as she pushed again. She felt her folds
burning as they widened, the child’s head beginning to protrude out of her. She
gasped as she heard Mary say, “Yes! I can see it! Push again, Madam!” Astoria
pushed harder, throwing her head back into her pillow, moaning still louder, it
hurt so very much. She screamed and wailed with the effort of pushing as the
baby finally slid from her body. The next thing she knew, Astoria heard the
desperate crying of her child. “A boy! You have a boy Madam!” Cried Mary, as
she laid the baby upon her chest, covered in blood and Merlin knew what else.
Her baby’s cord had still not been detached and it was vaguely uncomfortable
sticking out of her as she held her son, but she did not care, all the
suffering of a few moments ago seemed to vanish. Astoria was sobbing, shaking,
elated, shocked, her emotions were all over the place as she held this
precious, screaming bundle in her arms. She could not believe that this was
real, her heart would surely explode. Astoria had never loved anything so much,
she would lay down her life for him, do anything to keep him safe. He was the
most beautiful thing in the world. Her son, herson. In the bed where her own
Mother had once died, there was new life.
 
 At last, her son’s cord detached, and the afterbirth slithered out of her.
Mary came over and asked tentatively if she might clean up the baby who had
finally stopped crying. Astoria gave a nod of assent and handed him over, still
trying to process everything. Iddi meanwhile was dabbing at the dried blood and
mucus on Astoria’s chest. She was now a Mother, a Mother. It was all so much to
take in, she could not quite believe that the child now being patted down with
a warm cloth in Mary’s arms was hers.It truly was incredible. When Mary handed
her son back to her Astoria got a better look at his face and was pleased to
see he had a great resemblance to her and not Antonin. Her son’s hair was spun
gold, as he began to blink confusedly up at her she saw that his eyes were
lilac like her own, and his nose seemed to be of a similar shape. Indeed, the
only thing that distinguished his features from hers was his skin. It was still
golden, but quite a few shades paler than her own, this seemed to be the only
thing that Antonin had given him. Astoria was still gazing at him, awestruck,
when an uneasy thought came to her. Yes, the child did not look like Antonin.
Would this make him angry? And if so, howangry? His rage could be a terrible
thing, she knew. But it did not matter, she then thought fiercely, she was
prepared to take any number of punishment beatings and rapes if that was what
kept her son from harm. The baby was half asleep, but was now making movements
with his hands towards her breast and licking his lips.
 
“Go on Madam” urged Mary as she watched on.
 
Tentatively, not sure if she were doing it right, Astoria slipped her left
nipple into the child’s mouth. As he began to nurse, the warm feeling of love
intensified inside her, she had never felt so happy and contented in her life.
When she looked up, she saw Mary smiling, the first time she had seen her do so
in what felt like forever.
 
“What will you name him Madam?” Mary asked.
 
Astoria looked down at her nursing son for a moment. “Leonidas.” She said
softly. “His name, is Leonidas.”
 
When Astoria felt strong enough she got out of the bloody bed and stepped into
a wide, ornate silver basin, she did not want to bathe, she wanted to get back
to her son who had been laid down in a crib in the Nursery next door. Mary and
Iddi sponged soap and water between her legs. She shuddered a little, still raw
from the birth. When they were done they garbed Astoria in a new silk sleeping
shift and bed robe of deepest blue. She made straight for the Nursery where
Leonidas was sleeping. It was a small room which was light and airy now the sun
was out, decorated in white and gold. The golden crib was shrouded in lace
curtains and the brightly painted mural on the ceiling depicted woodland
creatures gambling about a magical forest. There was a small nurses bed
furthest from the door and closest to the crib, a daintily carved rocking chair
beside it. Astoria went over to Leonidas and merely stared at him stirring
feebly, contented and innocent in slumber. Not knowing his Father was a
monster, not knowing that he would not even exist if his Mother had not been
raped, not knowing that she loved him more than she had loved anyone in her
life. Eventually, Astoria began to feel her lids starting to droop. She slipped
off of her bed robe, flung it over the rocking chair and made for the nurse’s
bed, wincing a little as she clambered in. The birth had left her exhausted
both in her mind and body and it was not too long before she herself drifted
off to sleep.
 
Over a moon’s turn had passed since Astoria had given birth to Leonidas and her
body had returned to just as it had been before. She spent every waking hour
with her son and would often call him “Leo” fondly when she spoke to him. Leo
could recognise her now, he would gurgle and smile happily, attempting to grab
at her golden tresses, so like his own, with his chubby fists. He would cry
sometimes, but not often, in the night and he usually settled once Astoria gave
him her breast. Antonin had still not returned, but Mary had informed Astoria
that she had sent word to him informing him of the birth with his Sea Eagle, a
recent acquisition he had dubbed Vlad, so he must know by now. The eagle was
pure black with evil, orange eyes and had a viscous temper to match his
Master’s. The creature was quite huge and stood at three feet tall with a
sharp, curved beak and lethal, four inch talons. Indeed, Astoria had noticed
half healed scratches and cuts on Mary’s hands. As far as Astoria was
concerned, the longer Antonin stayed away the better. One morn however, as the
door to the Nursery swung open at her approach, Astoria let out a shocked gasp.
There, standing by the crib and actually holdingLeonidas, was Antonin, a look
of mild curiosity upon his face as he stared down at the baby. He contrasted
starkly in the light room in his black, Death Eater robes. The sight filled her
with abject horror and she went cold all over, wanting nothing more than to
snatch her son out of his arms, but she did not dare such a thing. When Antonin
looked up at her, he gave her a cold sneer, his face full of gloating
satisfaction.
 
“Ah, there she is, the blossoming new Mother” he said, his mouth twisting
slightly.
 
Astoria struggled to find her words, such was her terror. “As-as you say
husband.” She replied.
 
“This son pleases me,” he said after a small pause, glancing down again at
Leonidas who was, mercifully, asleep. Astoria knew his temper would not
tolerate endless wails and crying. “Though he favours you in looks…” She
tensed. “…At least he shall grow up handsome.” Relief broke over her, she had
expected a far worse reaction.
 
Astoria desperately wanted Antonin to put Leo down. No matter what he said, his
moods could change quicker than a flash of lightening and she did not want him
anywhere near the boy. She knew of only one thing that might work. Astoria
swept across the room and when she reached him, began to stroke Antonin’s
forearm suggestively, reaching up to touch his face. “How long has it been
husband? Would you not like to spend some time with me?” For a moment he stared
at her, as though unable to believe what she had just said and for an instant,
Astoria thought that he would not take the bait. However, his face split in a
smug grin, the satisfied expression he had worn before even more pronounced and
he laid Leo back in the crib, watching her expectantly.  Astoria slowly and
deliberately let her bed robe slide off in a river of silk, she was naked
underneath. Antonin was breathing very hard and began to caress her all over.
She drew his face down to hers for a kiss and he responded aggressively,
kissing her back hard as their tongues ran over one another’s. He gave a
muffled groan as she grasped his crotch and buried his hands in her honey
coloured hair. ‘All for Leo’Astoria thought to get herself through it ‘I must
do this for my son.’ Suddenly, Antonin scooped her up in his arms and strode
out of the Nursery, through the Lady’s bedchamber until they arrived in the
Lord’s. He laid her naked form down on a vast green and gold sofa and began to
undress, ripping his garb in his eagerness to get at her. Once naked, he sat
down, his veined member sticking up in the air.
 
“Come and sit in my lap” Antonin panted, sounding as out of breath as though he
had been running. Astoria obeyed at once. She straddled his member and he
grasped hard at her round backside, pushing her downwards to fill her and she
dutifully began to ride him, vaguely remembering how this position had been a
favourite of the Durmstrang boy who had taken her maidenhood. He grunted and
groaned as she pretended to squeal and shudder in pleasure, which seemed to
please him a lot, kissing her hard and taking her nipples in his mouth. As
Astoria grasped behind his neck with her hands, Antonin then shifted his grip
to behind her thighs and stood, thrusting hard so that he was impaling her
freely with her legs wrapped around him. She imagined that he enjoyed taking
her standing up because it gave him utter control, having the power whether to
drop her or not. Indeed, he seemed to become even more excited by this
position. Then, it came on her sudden and without warning. Shewas the one
climaxing this time. Horrified, she attempted to stifle her moan, but Antonin
had felt the sudden rush of wetness on his length, had felt her back beginning
to arch. He gave a delighted laugh and ground himself harder into her, she
moaned still louder, both pleasure and horror crashing over her body in waves.
“That’s right” Antonin growled “That’s right you little nymph, you love it.
Sing for your Master.” Astoria did, though the pleasure was now ebbing from her
body to be replaced with shock and confusion. “Louder” he commanded, breathing
rapidly. Again, she obeyed and moaned louder. Antonin carried on in this
fashion before walking over to the side of the bed and laying her on her back.
He spread her legs, held them open and began to pump at her. To Astoria’s
dismay it happened again, she began to climax just at the same time as Antonin,
and had to work incredibly hard not to break down, knowing how furious he would
be. The sleeping baby a few rooms away was the only thing that helped to keep
her composure. Afterward Antonin gestured for her to get in bed with him. As
Astoria laid at his side, he drew her to him to hold her in his muscular arms.
As her head was resting on his chest, he kissed her on the forehead and began
to stroke her hair, as she willed herself not to shudder in revulsion. “I do
not think I have ever enjoyed you more my darling” Antonin said, his voice
thick with pleasure. “You as well I think” he went on, smirking as he glanced
down at her. “With any fortune you will give me another child soon.”
 
“Of, course husband,” Astoria replied at once with a small smile. Inside her
head she was mortified, ‘another child?’She felt certain that she would love
any other child as much as she did Leo, but so soon after? Her body had gone
through so much, carrying him, birthinghim, caring for him and all the emotions
that came with it. No, she could not go through that again for another year or
so, and besides, she thought angrily, she was not some damned broodmare to be
impregnated over and over again until she was too exhausted to have any more
children. But she did not really see how she could stop this from happening
with no access to preventative potions such as Tansy Tea. Astoria sighed
inwardly, she supposed the best she could do would be to finish Antonin with
her hand or mouth, if he would allow it that is.
 
Antonin had played the perfect gentleman for the rest of the day. He
courteously inquired how Astoria was feeling after the birth and generously
complimented her on how fine her figure was looking so soon after having Leo.
When Leonidas awoke later he cooed over him, so over the top that it was
sickeningly sweet, praising Astoria on the name she had chosen and calling him
“my boy.” She knew that it was all an act, he was in a high mood because she
had pleasured him so much earlier and he was no fool, he now knew that he had
the ultimate power and control over her now that Leonidas had been born. He
knew she loved the child, and there was nothing that she would not do to
protect it. Mary’s words had drifted back to her then.
 
“He wants you to obey him, fear him and love him. That is what feeds his lust
for power and control.”
 
Yes, Mary had been right on that score, Antonin was far more bearable if she
played the dutiful wife, though when he flew into one of his rages, nothing
would abate his anger, no matter how much she batted her lashes. Astoria
supposed that Antonin viewed her and Leonidas like trophies, his personal
possessions to posture his power to the rest of the world. That evening, when
Astoria walked into the Lord’s bedchamber robed for bed, she was startled to
see an enormous, dragon shaped urn filled with at least a hundred giant, lilac
roses. They had always been her favourites. She approached the urn, looking at
it curiously.
 
“Iddi told me lilac roses were your favourite, my love.” Came Antonin’s voice,
softly.
 
Astoria started and looked up. Antonin was leaning on the doorframe that led to
the Lord’s solar, also dressed in a bed robe of wine red with black swirls, his
bare chest exposed slightly. “That was-was most kind my Lord, I am honoured by
your sweet gesture.”
 
Antonin then walked over to her and when he was stood above her, he smiled and
touched her hair. “You pleased me greatly this morn.” He whispered. “I am glad
that you are at last learning what I expect from my wife.”
 
“I am pleased to have pleased my Lord husband.” Astoria replied as she brushed
his chest with her soft fingers.
 
Just the lightest touch from her had seemed to arouse him, Antonin inhaled
deeply and walked behind her, sliding the bed robe from her shoulders and
placing his hand between her legs. “Come, come show me again what a lovely wife
you can be.”
  
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     As I've stated before, i think it's a more interesting dynamic for
     Astoria to love her child because now she has something to lose. I
     also want to point out that this is not heading for Stockholm
     Syndrome or anything like that. Astoria still hates Antonin and is
     merely doing what she has to so he will not hurt her baby. Also, even
     though Antonin has a fair idea of what she is doing, she also has a
     certain power over him when it comes to sex as he can't resist her,
     she is his perfect woman/he is sexually obsessed with her etc. Even
     though he takes pleasure from raping Astoria he also gets off on the
     fact that he now has even more power over her and having 'normal' sex
     with his 'adoring wife' which is part of his fantasy. Though Astoria
     still views herself as being violated as she doesn't want to sleep
     with him. Also regarding Antonin giving her flowers, he's one of
     those abusers who will give their victims gifts/occasional acts of
     (false) kindness to try and emotionally manipulate/confuse them for
     control and to create a constant climate of fear for when they
     inevitably start beating them again.
     Re Antonin's eagle, Vlad - Stellers Sea Eagle: the heaviest eagle in
     the world with a wingspan of 2m and can inflict horrific injuries.
***** XVI. - The Hunted *****
Chapter Summary
     This covers more of the Death Eaters activities and shifts from
     Britain to other places, and highlights how powerful Voldemort's
     regime is becoming. More Non-Canon Death Eaters/Characters added.
     Warning: graphic material.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Just under a moon’s turn had passed when Astoria and Antonin were commanded to
travel to Holland. The Dark Lord had received word that the last of the
Prewett’s were hiding out there in the countryside. The Death Eater’s had been
commanded to slay them all, none were to be taken alive as they could not risk
any of them escaping again.Less than half a year past, the Death Eaters had
succeeded in capturing Dorothy Prewett on the outskirts of Belgium. She was
witch in her middling twenties and a cousin to Ronald Weasley, another Blood
Traitor, but it was said that she was powerfully magical. Their intention had
been to subdue Dorothy and drag her back to Britain to be imprisoned at the
Purification Institute, seeing as she was a Pure Blood, but no wizard would
ever consent to wed her. Thus, the Dark Lord thought it fitting instead that
she produce some Pure Blood children who would one day swell the ranks of his
army. Astoria rather thought that death would be preferable to that fate.
However, something had gone awry during the fight and Dorothy had escaped.
Astoria naturally had not taken part in this as she was pregnant at the time,
though she had heard enough to guess what had happened from Antonin’s drunken
screams as he raged about the Palace not too long after this had occurred. He
had flung urns, smashed mirrors and yelled threats and promises of retribution.
 
“That. Filthy. Blood Traitor. Whore!” Antonin had spat, striding about the
Lord’s bedchamber, a bottle of half empty ‘Norton’s’gin clutched in his hand.
“When I get my hands on that bitch, ohh… she will regret it, I shall make her
wish she had never been born!” He had gone on in this fashion for half the
night getting drunker and drunker, making Astoria incredibly anxious. Soon or
late Astoria had thought, shewould have ended up being the target of his rage
as usual. However, she need not have worried, by the time Antonin had finished
shouting and screaming, he was so drunk that he was not capable of even hitting
her. He had been swaying heavily, and it took two attempts for him to get into
the bed. True, he had been sloppy and rough when he had eventually managed to
bed her, but he was not brutal or violent as was his wont when he was angry.
 
Thus, Antonin was particularly excited about going after the Prewett’s, Dorothy
in particular. Astoria wondered what horrors he had in store for the witch and
shuddered inwardly. Also, as was common knowledge, Antonin had killed Gideon
and Fabian Prewett during the First Uprising, resulting in his imprisonment in
Azkaban and his Father’s death. Killing the last of the family was a twisted
sort of revenge for him, though he had no one but himself to blame for his
incarceration. Astoria doubted that Antonin had loved his Father, she did not
think Antonin was capable of loving anyone, though his Father’s death at the
hands of the Ministry would have touched upon his pride. Indeed as they were
walking along the courtyard towards the gates in order to disapparate, Antonin
said “I can scarcely wait to obliterate the last of those filthy Blood Traitors
and avenge my Father, justice at last.” He gave Astoria a gleeful grin which
she only returned half heartedly.
 
 “As you say, husband, I am glad this pleases you.” She automatically replied,
though inside her heart was breaking. Not so much for the Prewett’s, their fate
had been sealed for years now, but for her son. She did not want to leave him,
Leonidas was still so small and very attached to her. Astoria had been up half
the night tossing and turning wondering what would happen if she were to be
killed in battle and Leonidas was left to be raised by Antonin. It was a dagger
in her heart, constantly stabbing her with worry and fear. Antonin would most
like brutalise the boy as he had brutalised her. He was singularly unfit to
parent, he had no patience or warmth, he would become enraged when Leo would
cry in the night and wake them, so there was now a silencing charm on the door
to the Nursery. Astoria had found this most distressing, not being able to go
her son when he was upset. Antonin had forbidden her to get up in the night to
feed Leo in case he wanted to bed her, and she was not there. Indeed, Astoria
was not permitted to give Leo her breast at all, forthwith. One morn, Antonin
had come in to find her nursing the boy, and there was distinct envy in his
cold eyes. After she was done he had declared that Mary would bottle feed Leo
from now on. Astoria did not like this at all, feeding Leo naturally gave her a
connection with him that words could not describe, but as always, she did not
dare argue. Antonin permitted her to spend time with Leo in the daylight hours,
however, if he was present and the baby started to cry, he would call for Mary
and Iddi at once to take Leo back to his Nursery. It took all of Astoria’s
strength not to burst into tears as she kissed Leo goodbye when they had left
that afternoon.
 
Astoria pushed away these troubling thoughts, knowing that it would not do to
carry on fretting. What Antonin said was law and woe betide her should she
disobey, and as for her dying while out campaigning, she would just have to do
the best that she could to stay alive. Indeed, Astoria rather felt that her
magical power had increased tenfold since she had become a Mother. She felt ‘as
one’ with her wand in a way she had never done beforehand and could now perform
spells without saying the incantations aloud. The golden gates of the palace
swung open with a slight creak when she and Antonin finally reached them.
Wordless, Antonin held out his arm. She grasped it and they both turned on the
spot, appearing at once on a pebbly beach, the waves crashing on the rocks,
salt spray hanging in the air.
 
“West Sussex.” Antonin announced when he saw Astoria peering around and he
began to conjure up two brooms. “We are to wait here for the others.” He
finished, a look of poorly concealed, malicious sense of anticipation upon his
face.
 
Astoria was glad she had worn her warmest cloak over her Death Eater robes, it
was lined with black fox fur to match the leather gloves on her hands. It was
much colder by the sea and the late February wind was icy as it blew cruelly on
her face. It was beginning to grow dark as the iron grey clouds swirled over
the sun, and Astoria heard faint ‘pops’as the other Death Eaters began to
apparate onto the beach. Avery, the Carrow siblings, Silas Norton, McNair and
at least fifty others were jostling on the bleak coastline, talking excitedly
and clutching brooms. Astoria glimpsed Draco’s face and quickly turned away,
her stomach had given a horrid twist and she could not bear to even look at
him, such was her grief.
 
Antonin had climbed up onto a small sort of rocky cliff so that he looked down
on everyone. “Right, I shall have silence!” he roared, and all fell quiet at
once. “The Dark Lord says that I am in charge of this mission, so you shall
allreport to me and none other, is that understood?” He asked commandingly, the
corner of his mouth giving a pleasurable twist, delighted to be holding the
power.
 
“Yes, Dolohov!” they all cried back in unison.
 
“Good,” Antonin said softly. Then, in a much louder tone he went on, “Our
orders are to enter Holland as quickly and quietly as is possible, however, we
should expect a fight from German and French forces, they are working very hard
to prevent us from infiltrating Northern Europe. We shall enter through North
Holland and apparate to the countryside to find them in the South. It should
not take more than a day for us to reach the Prewett’s, the Dark Lord has
divulged their exact location to me and they will not be expecting us, though
they may have some Ministry protection.” At his words, Avery spat on the sand.
Antonin smirked and went on. “There can be no question that there will be
Ministry officials and aurors buzzing about the coastline when we arrive, so be
prepared. Your orders are to kill on sight, we shall be taking no prisoners on
this occasion, but-“ he gave a broad grin, “Boys, you may do as you please with
any witches or women we come by on this campaign.” There was general laughter
from the wizards and Astoria heard Silas give a loud screech of delight.
Antonin chuckled softly and pulled out his wand and placed it on his palm. It
spun wildly before stopping with a jerk, pointing west. “Mount your brooms!”
Antonin then shouted. All the Death Eaters drew out their masks, raised their
hoods and slid onto their brooms.
 
As one, they all rose into the air and before long they were soaring over the
swirling, crashing sea. It had begun to rain, lightly at first, but it began to
get heavier and heavier, smashing into the sea, making a terrible roaring
noise, soaking them all to the bone. It was so dark now that Astoria could
barely see anyone else, though she was distantly aware of flying between
Theodore Nott and Josiah Zabini. A little over two hours later, it happened.
There were shouts over the noise of the storm and a flash of blue light came
streaking through the sky, narrowly missing someone in front of Astoria. She
drew her wand at once.
 
“Kill them, kill them all now!” Astoria heard Antonin bellowing from far away.
 
Suddenly, out of a black cloud to her left burst three wizards, also mounted on
brooms. Astoria and the others scattered as all three of the unknown wizards
yelled together “Impedimenta!”  Theodore’s mask slipped as he half fell off his
broom, shouting, but Silas, who had also lost his mask, zoomed over to push him
back on.
 
 Astoria was firing hexes in every direction of what must be Ministry officials
and aurors who had come to defend Northern Europe. She suddenly felt a sharp
pain in the back of her shoulder, and whirled around angrily, ripping off her
mask as she did so. She hated people who attacked from behind. A mature, hard
faced witch was throwing curses at her through the rain and screaming in a
heavy French accent. “Whore! Death Eater whore! Be gone from these shores!”
Astoria tightened her grip on her broom handle with her left hand and sped
forward, still dodging all the curses. She pointed her wand straight at other
witches face. A burst of green light erupted from her wand and blasted the
witch straight off her broom, she toppled out of sight and plummeted down to
the churning sea below.
 
Astoria briefly felt shaken, she had killed before, but never using Avada
Kedavra.She flew through the battle which was lighting up the night sky with
all the jets of light flying everywhere. Suddenly, something heavy slammed into
her and she knew a moment of terror as she almost slipped and fell, this
intensified as strong hands grasped around her throat. Astoria tried to make a
sound but could not utter, her vision grew misty and she distantly heard
someone snarl in her ear, “Scum, scum, die you bitch!” He sounded German. The
wizard who had hold of her had clearly lost his wand. No, no! You cannot die
you cannot! Think of Leo, think of Leo!Astoria thought fiercely, though now she
was starting to feel drowsy, the rain lashing her face. With an enormous
effort, she grasped her wand tightly and shoved it into the wizard’s stomach.
Her curse ripped straight through the wizard, causing his entrails to fly
everywhere, he did not even have time to yell. Astoria gasped as she took great
breaths of cold air as his grip released and felt blood spatter her face. The
wizard’s broom and his mangled remains span downwards through the sky. She
looked up, shaking, and saw Antonin duelling three at once, Blaise Zabini and
Adelaide Yaxley were locked in combat with a group of at least six, and she saw
Rodolphus Lestrange battling an elderly wizard; the two seemed to be equally
matched. These seemed to be the only combatants left who had not yet been
killed or fled, the rest of the Death Eaters were swirling around the sky,
looking to see if more defenders would return. Astoria surmised that they were
not interfering in the duels in case they hit one of their own, so she
proceeded to do the same.
 
At last, when the elderly wizard who had been duelling Rodolphus went flying
through the clouds, shrieking, there were no more defenders left. Silas gave
his high pitched cackle and began to do loop the loops in the air, laughing
still more madly with each loop. Astoria could see his disfigured face through
the gloom, full of malicious delight at their victory. “Enough!” barked
Antonin, and Silas stopped at once. Antonin was breathing hard, bending over
his broom slightly, and he had a gash across his forehead, but otherwise seemed
unharmed. “They will be back and undoubtedly they will bring more when they
find all the corpses in the sea below. We must make for the coast at once, now
come! All of you!” he shouted.
 
They all dived and pulled up short of the sea, speeding towards the coastline,
though they veered right when they saw another group of wizards standing on the
beach. Astoria heard distant yells and more jets of light flew towards them,
but they were too far away to make any impact. She and the other Death Eaters
landed further up the coast, many falling and getting entangled with one
another, such was the force of their landing. Silas was in a crumpled heap,
moaning, but was roughly dragged to his feet by Josiah. With over fifty of
them, it was a scrum getting themselves into some semblance of order. Indeed,
Antonin set off several bangs of red light into the air from his wand. “Quiet!”
He bellowed. “Quiet I say! I will have order! Now!” and all stopped moving at
once. “Now, there is a forest not many leagues from here where we shall set up
camp tonight, I want you all in fighting form tomorrow, we-“ But Antonin was
cut off. More wizard defenders were apparating all around them, encircling
their group on the beach. Antonin looked momentarily caught off guard, but then
roared with laughter and struck down a wizard closest to him. After all, there
were only twenty of these other wizards and they were completely outnumbered.
Astoria could not be surprised that the wizards had appeared, they had been
making such a racket. However, the duelling that followed went on for close to
an hour, these had clearly been some of the best wizards Holland had to offer,
come to defend their homeland. When they all lay dead, Antonin commanded them
to clear away the bodies, not wanting anyone to know that they had been here.
They did. Silas was very amused as he hurried around the grisly scene, setting
the bodies alight, which disappeared almost at once in a puff of smoke, while
McNair lazily transfigured them into rocks and branches. “Now, to the forest!”
Antonin barked.
 
They all disapparated at once to arrive in a large clearing in a remote forest,
which was deathly quiet, the wind whispering gently at the tree leaves. “We
must use Muggle repelling, silencing and disillusionment charms to ensure that
we remain undiscovered for the nonce.” Said Antonin, speaking into the quiet.
“We shall remain here until just before break of day and leave when it is still
dark.” He then gave an awful smile, “and then, we go and get them.” There were
murmurs of assent after Antonin’s pronouncement and everyone began to move to
the perimeters of the clearing to cast the charms, with these many wands, their
protection would be almost unbreakable, Astoria thought vaguely. Antonin then
swept his wand slowly in an arc over the clearing and many tents appeared there
at once, with a larger black one looking down upon them all. Astoria made to go
to the perimeter to help with the charms, but Antonin caught her by the arm.
She looked at him, apprehensive. “No, no, my wife can come have some rest.” He
said with a slight smile. Astoria knew she was unlikely to get any ‘rest’
whatsoever, but took his hand all the same and allowed him to lead her up to
the large black tent.
 
When they entered the tent, Astoria saw that it was sumptuously decorated in
black and silver velvet hangings. The plush rug in the centre was emblazoned
with the Dark Mark, as were all the silver carvings on the gilt bed. There was
a large mirror in the centre of the eastern wall, and further to the left there
was a door which Astoria assumed must lead into the bathing suite. Astoria
gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Dried blood covered the left
side of her face and was matted into her French braid. There was a graze on her
right cheek and ugly, black choke marks where the wizard had tried to throttle
her were littered over her neck. Antonin looked at her and chuckled softly.
“Only battle marks my love, we shall be able to fix those in no time.”
Undoubtedly, the battle above the sea and on the beach had been the most
gruelling ones Astoria had ever fought thus far with the Death Eaters. Antonin
then led her to the bathing suite. Once inside, he waved his wand carelessly
and her sodden robes vanished, leaving her naked, and the silver bathtub filled
with hot, bubbling, sweet smelling water. “Get in my dear,” Antonin said
softly, and Astoria obeyed at once. He waved his wand again so that he was
dressed only in a dark green bed robe. Antonin crouched down beside the tub,
conjured up a wet, soft sponge and began to dab at the blood on the side of her
face and hair, smirking slightly. “We must do something about these unsightly
marks” he said, still speaking in that soft voice, ceasing his dabbing and
running his fingers through her wet hair and stroking the back of her head
gently. “Drisella!” Antonin barked suddenly, making Astoria jump.
 
Drisella Selwyn suddenly appeared in the bathing suite, ignoring Astoria’s
nakedness and curtsying for Antonin. “How might I serve you, Dolohov?” Drisella
asked respectfully.
 
“You know some Healing do you not?” Antonin demanded, getting to his feet.
 
“That is correct, Dolohov.” Drisella replied.
 
“In that case, I command you to fix these blemishes upon my wife’s normally
perfect visage.”
 
“At once, Dolohov.” Drisella said, and knelt down by the tub, taking Astoria by
the chin, not ungently, moving her head from side to side, evaluating the
damage to be fixed. Finally, she pulled out her wand and began to wave it in an
odd, figure of eight movement, her deep grey eyes narrowed in concentration.
Astoria gazed at Drisella as she worked. Astoria knew little of the girl. In
truth, she had barely uttered two words to her before, as Drisella had been a
year below Silas at Hogwarts, making her sixteen years by now. All she knew of
Drisella was that she was daughter of Walter Selwyn and had a twin brother
named Dashiell. “There, that is all done with, Dolohov” she said at last.
 
“Good, you have pleased me, I shall be informing your Father of this.” Antonin
said, eyeing Astoria closely, just to be sure that Drisella had not missed
anything. Drisella bowed her head and vanished at once. Antonin drew Astoria to
her feet and led her to a mirror and stood behind her. He gave her a firm kiss
on the cheek and whispered, “There, beautiful and clean once again.” She was
still soaking wet, but the water was beginning to dry, and she began to shiver.
Antonin laughed and picked her up in his arms, “Have no fear my love, I shall
have you all warmed up soon.” And he carried her back into the bedchamber.
 
The sky was still very dark when all arose the next morn, the sun had not yet
shown itself. Antonin gathered all the Death Eaters before his tent and Astoria
slipped into the crowd. “You are all to perform disillusionment charms upon
yourselves. We are to approach the Prewett hideout from afar, as it will not do
for fifty of us to be spotted, skulking around there. I want the entire
perimeter encircled so that none can escape. There is a chance that there may
be Ministry interference, so I want the place surrounded for three leagues. You
shall go in groups of ten at each league, the other twenty or so of us will
surround the place and put an end to this for good and all.” He finished, with
a sneer. As the protective charms still held, the Death Eaters cheered and
shouted, shooting bursts of light from their wands into the dark morning air.
Once this had subsided, Antonin breathed, “Let us go.” His eyes gleaming with a
sinister excitement.
 
One by one, the Death Eaters all vanished as they performed their
disillusionment charms, and there were faint pops as each wizard disapparated.
They apparated to the top of a hill overlooking a valley as the sky began to
lighten, all still invisible. There was a thin river running through the valley
and it was littered with trees and hedgerows. Right in the centre, surrounded
by more trees, Astoria thought she could make out a house.
 
“Is that it?” Came Adelaide’s excited whisper somewhere to her right, “Do you
think that that is where they are?”
 
No one had a chance to answer, for then Antonin’s voice cut through the air.
“That is the place, down in the middle.” Astoria could tell he was trying hard
to keep the excitement out of his voice and sound cool and commanding.
“Mulciber, you shall take nine and remain here, Avery and Carrow, you are to do
the same further down the valley. Do NOTreveal yourselves until you see my
spell break the protective charms around the house, understood?” There were
murmurs of “At once Dolohov” and “Understood Dolohov.” “Good, now, the rest of
you, come with me” he almost whispered.
 
The soft padding of footsteps on grass were the only sounds as Astoria and the
others made their way down the valley. It was further than it had looked, and
they were walking for what seemed like an age as she heard the other groups of
Death Eaters take their positions around the valley. Finally, they arrived at
the farmhouse. It was larger than it had seemed from the top of the hill, but
it was crumbling and in ruins. The windows were grimy and cracked, there were
tiles missing from the roof and the paving stones leading toward it were
crooked and broken. The door appeared to be hanging off its hinges, but Astoria
knew this was part of the magic of the protective charms, to make the place
seem disused and empty. Antonin suddenly appeared and walked closer to the
house, so that he was now twenty feet away. He slowly raised his wand and
pointed it straight at the roof of the house. A blinding flash of silver light
seemed to light up the valley and the spell made a screeching sound, like a
thousand nails on a chalkboard. Astoria could almost feel Antonin’s spell
ripping through the protective charms and all the other Death Eaters appeared
everywhere at once.
 
Astoria could hear screams of terror and crying from within the farmhouse.
“Come out!” Antonin roared, “Come out nowand you will not have to die the hard
way, choose to fight, and I promise you, I will make your dying last half the
night.” Antonin had his back to Astoria and the others, but she could tell he
was smiling. “You are surrounded by more than fifty Death Eaters, there is
nowhere to run, I have cast an anti disapparition charm over this area. Come.
Out. NOW! Or I will make you.” Ten wizards in official looking, navy blue robes
suddenly came pouring out of the door, their wands raised, staring around the
valley at all the Death Eaters surrounding them. These were clearly Ministry of
Holland Wizards. Antonin laughed, “Fools! Now, fellow Death Eaters! Take them!”
 
The fight burst out at once in a sort of explosion. Two of the wizards aimed
curses at Antonin, but he waved his wand casually at them and they were thrown
high up into the air. One smashed through the rickety roof of the house on his
way down, and the screaming within increased in pitch. The other landed with a
splat on the paving stones, his body breaking on impact. Blood, brains and
innards splattered everywhere, including the hem of Antonin’s robes. Suddenly a
young, red headed woman came hurtling from the house into the fray. This must
be Dorothy Prewett, Astoria thought fleetingly, as another wizard lunged toward
her, sending a jet of orange light in her direction, but she deflected it
easily and began to duel him. They seemed to be at it for an age, the wizard
was incredibly skilful, and Astoria could not seem to touch him. Her wand arm
was growing tired when suddenly the wizard was knocked off balance by Josiah
who had backed into him as he was fighting another. Astoria did not have the
time to conjure Avada Kedavra so she used a spell Antonin had shown her of his
own invention, Purpura Morta.She made a slashing movement with her wand and
purple flame burst from it, hitting the wizard right in the face. He was dead
before he hit the ground.
 
Astoria looked around wildly, everyone was still duelling, some of the trees
were ablaze and as she gazed up the valley she saw that a full scale battle had
broken out between the Death Eaters who had been stationed up the valley and
moreMinistry witches and wizards who had apparated to the scene. Other Death
Eaters had burst into the house to drag the Prewett’s outside. There looked to
be about nine of them. A red headed boy of about ten years had made a break
from the group for the river, terrified at the carnage. Silas pointed his wand
at the boy’s back, “Avada-"  he began, but Silas never got a chance to finish
the spell. The next moment, Silas was flying through the air, screaming, and
was smashed into a tree, sliding, apparently unconscious to the ground, blood
pouring from his nose and mouth. Dorothy Prewett had directed a powerful curse
at Silas to prevent him from killing the boy. At this, Astoria, Antonin, Blaise
and Adelaide pointed their wands at Dorothy, but she repelled them. Adelaide
was blasted off her feet and landed with a loud splash in the river, Blaise
spun in the air over and over before slamming into the ground, and Astoria
herself was thrown thirty feet backwards.
 
Only Antonin had managed to stand his ground. He snarled at Dorothy as they
began to duel one another. “You cannot defeat me, you bitch!” He screamed.
“When I have killed you, I am going to torture your filthy family to death!”
Indeed, Walden McNair, Josiah Zabini, Corban Yaxley, Theodore Nott and five
others were all torturing the other Prewett’s over and over, their yells of
pain echoing with the din in the valley. Evan Rosier had continued the pursuit
of the boy who had ran away and was hexing him, so that deep slashes appeared
in his back as he screamed in agony, writhing upon the grass by the river bank.
 
Astoria suddenly shrieked as a curse hit her in the chest, one of the surviving
Ministry wizards had charged down from the valley and caught her off guard. She
crumpled to the floor, sobbing, her hand clutching her heart. She he felt as
though her chest were aflame, but before the wizard could deal her a fatal
blow, Augustus Rookwood shot a killing curse at him and the wizard fell
instantly, dead. Astoria merely laid upon the grass, dazed and hurting. Soon
though, through a haze of pain, Astoria heard dimly that the sounds of curses
and shouting had subsided. She forced herself to look up and saw it was only
Antonin and Dorothy still duelling and the others still torturing the
Prewett’s. Corpses were strewn all over the valley and many Death Eaters had
come to watch the fight.
 
Astoria propped herself up against a tree and looked up, blearily, just as
Antonin got his chance to finish Dorothy. A moment’s hesitation from Dorothy
had allowed him to perform his signature spell, Purpura Morta.Dorothy fell,
hard, her wand flying out of her hand, but the spell had not killed her.
Antonin grinned down at the witch with a look of savage triumph upon his face,
and pointed his wand at her. Dorothy’s clothes vanished and for a moment
Astoria assumed he was going to rape her for all to see, but no. It was worse,
a thousand times worse than that. Once again, he pointed his wand at her and
directed it at her left arm. Dorothy gave a terrible scream as her arm was
severed from her body. Astoria closed her eyes tightly as Dorothy screamed and
screamed combined with the jeers of the other Death Eaters ringing in the air.
For what seemed like an hour later, Astoria’s eyes jerked open automatically as
she felt someone shaking her shoulder, roughly. It was Thorefinn Rowle, most
like checking to see if she was still alive. Astoria wished he had not, for she
beheld a truly horrific scene. The naked head and torso of Dorothy Prewett was
squirming on the ground in a pool of blood. Antonin had severed her arms and
legs, yet she was, incredibly, still alive. Antonin was howling obscenities
incoherently in the background and the heads of the rest of the Prewett family
had been impaled on the dead branches of the burned trees. Astoria stared for a
moment, horror struck, and fainted.   
Chapter End Notes
     'Purpura Morta' means purple death. It's the name I gave to Antonin's
     unnamed curse in the original books.
***** XVII. - Count Dracula *****
Chapter Summary
     This covers the aftermath of the Holland attack and we see the Death
     Eaters going abroad again.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Fragmented images were shattered across Astoria’s mind as she dipped in and out
of consciousness. She was flying across the sea, but no, that could not be, she
did not remember mounting her broom, she could not fly of her own accord… the
wind rushed in her ears. It was all so confusing. A bloody torso writhed upon
the floor, wizards were flying everywhere, everything was ablaze, the fire
consuming all in its path. A young witch was dragged from a river, her face as
white as chalk. Blood, destruction and screams…what was going on? Astoria’s
chest was in so much pain, she surely must be dying. What was that now?  Strong
arms bundled her into, what? A carriage perhaps? Then there was the feeling of
soaring again, soaring and soaring through the air…
 
When Astoria opened her eyes, she gave a muffled moan of pain and stirred
feebly. It was as though someone had cut open her chest, carved out her heart
and torn her ribcage in two. The next she knew, a withered old warlock was
leaning over her muttering, wheezily, “Now, now Madam Dolohov, you must be
still, you have been seriously wounded and have been incapacitated for two
weeks. I shall give you something for the pain shortly.”
 
Astoria hazily took in her surroundings and realised that she was back in her
bedchamber at Greengrass Palace. “Who…you?” She croaked at the warlock, barely
getting her words out. “Where…how? My son...I-”
 
But the warlock did not have time to answer, for at that moment, the door of
her bedchamber creaked open and Antonin came slouching into the room, clad in a
black bed robe. “Ah, she is awake, finally.” He said with a sinister smile.
Antonin came over to the bed and bent to kiss her on the cheek. When he
straightened, he announced, “This is Healer Rathburne, my dear. He has been
given to us by the Dark Lord as a present to show his gratitude for the
successful campaign I led in Holland.”
 
Astoria swallowed hard and replied, “His Lordship is most generous.” To be
sure, she knew that Healers were hard to come by in these dark times. Many had
been killed or fled when the chaos of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror had
descended on Britain, and St. Mungo’s had fallen into disrepair and ruin. Any
remaining Healers were rounded up and forced into servitude to treat wounded
Death Eaters, hence, they were few and far between and many had to wait to be
healed. Indeed, Astoria herself had given birth to Leonidas with only the
assistance of the half trained Mary and Iddi the House Elf.
 
“Yes,” Antonin went on, smirking slightly, “Rathburne is one of the best.” The
Healer merely stood there, looking meek and subservient. “When shall my wife be
recovered?” he demanded of Rathburne.
 
“No more or less than a week Master Dolohov” Rathburne replied in his quavery
voice. “And there shall be no lasting damage, seeing as it was a non verbal
curse.” He looked down at Astoria. “You mentioned your son when you awoke. The
child thrives Madam, I have looked in on him already at the request of your
husband and you will be pleased to know that the boy is indeed a wizard, he
shows signs of magic already.” A mixture of relief and a mad desire to hold Leo
in her arms again broke over her, but she knew better than to beg for her baby.
“I shall give you something for the pain now, Madam Dolohov” Rathburne went on,
“I have examined you and have determined that you are not pregnant, so will
opium serve?”
 
Astoria inwardly grimaced, thinking of Narcissa. Her emaciated appearance,
sunken eyes and gaunt, once beautiful face; opium had made her a walking
corpse. But the pain was so bad, and Astoria was sure Antonin would want to bed
her later, regardless of what Rathburne counselled, so she did not see how she
could refuse. Astoria gave a small nod, “Just a touch Rathburne, I do not want
to become fond of opium, in case-” she glanced at Antonin “In case I should
give my Lord husband another child any time soon.” This was a lie of course,
but she did not want Antonin getting any ideas with regard to opium. Having her
hooked on the foul stuff would be another way to control her, so she said what
she needed to, knowing that this would please him. Sure enough, Antonin gave a
smug smile at her last words. Healer Rathburne then put a few drops of opium
from a crystal vial into a goblet of steaming black liquid. Astoria drank the
potion down in one and felt the awful pain in her chest vanish, along with a
curious, warm sensation in her head. She handed the goblet back to Rathburne.
Oh, how she wanted to see her son.
 
“Good, you may go, Rathburne.” Antonin said, carelessly. Rathburne gave them
both a creaky bow and shuffled out of the bedchamber. Antonin came over to the
side of Astoria’s bed and held out his hand, she took it and he pulled her to
her feet. Astoria was a little unsteady and Antonin grasped her by the waist to
keep her from toppling over. He led her to the crystal dressing table which was
sparkling in the afternoon light, gesturing for her to sit. “I have something
for you” Antonin said softly, and he conjured up a square, red velvet box,
placing it on the dresser. Slowly, the box began to open, and Astoria let out
an involuntary gasp. She could not help it. Resting on more red velvet was the
most magnificent diamond tiara she had ever seen, and she had seen a fair few.
Astoria had an entire vault of fantastical jewels beneath the palace after all.
This tiara however, was the most elaborate and sparkling Astoria had ever seen.
It was Goblin made, and there was a huge, white, pear shaped diamond in the
centre. Rows of more pear shaped diamonds adorned the headband, and the crown
piece was elaborately filigreed with yet more diamonds shaped like flowers,
giving the tiara an almost unearthly glow. “Do you like it?” Antonin whispered,
he had knelt behind her chair and was gazing at the reflection of the two of
them in the dresser mirror, his head resting on her shoulder.
 
 “I – I…” Astoria could not seem to get her words out, such was her confusion.
Then she remembered her courtesies. “Its beauty takes my breath away, husband,
I thank you.”
 
Antonin smiled and looked oddly satisfied. “Yes well,” he said, “A beautiful
tiara for the most beautiful witch in the world, I am sure this will become you
far more than it did that old harridan.” Astoria felt her insides clench, she
looked in the mirror at Antonin in what she hoped was a quizzical fashion. “The
old Prewett hag, Muriel.” He said in answer to her look. “After we slew them
all, I plundered the house and found this tiara, though they did their best to
conceal it.” He smirked.
 
Astoria went cold all over, and suddenly the tiara did not seem so beautiful
anymore. It seemed to sparkle up at her, accusingly. “That was most gallant of
you” Astoria forced herself to say, in her sweet, well practiced voice to mask
her horror.
 
“It would please me to see you wearing this” Antonin said. His voice was still
low, but Astoria could hear his breathing becoming deeper.
 
“Certainly husband.” Astoria replied at once. “Do you wish me to wear it when
we dine this eve or-“
 
She was cut off by Antonin’s chuckle, and he was shaking his head. “It would
please me to see you wearing onlythis.” Astoria sighed inwardly. Of course. You
should know him better by now.She thought. Antonin picked up the tiara and
placed it upon her honeyed curls, smirking broadly. He drew Astoria to her feet
and she shrugged out of her sleeping silks to stand there naked before him,
clad in only the tiara. Antonin grabbed her by the shoulders and began to kiss
her forcefully, pressing his body hard against hers. When they broke apart, he
fumbled at the tassels of his bed robe until the fabric parted to reveal his
rock hard shaft pointing at her. Antonin seized her arm roughly and pulled her
over to the bed, where he sat on the edge. “Knees.” He grunted. Astoria knew
what to do, she dropped to her knees at once, and wrapped her full lips around
the end of his member. Antonin let out a groan as she began to slide her mouth
up and down his length, and he grasped the back of her head so that she might
take him deeper down her throat. Antonin stared down at her, his tongue
moistening his lips, his free hand touching her face and occasionally brushing
the glittering tiara. Astoria pleasured Antonin with her mouth for some time
before he laid back on the bed and gestured for her to get on top of him. She
did. As she guided him inside her, she gave an affected little moan and bit
down on her lip, as though in pleasure, knowing how much this would please him,
and so it did. Antonin began to grind into her, his groans becoming louder and
reaching up to grab her breasts. Astoria then felt the familiar tingling
feeling between her lower lips, not again, she thought. She could never seem to
keep herself from climaxing when she was on top of him. Antonin began to rub
her delicate centre with his thumb as he felt her walls tighten around him, and
there was no stopping it. She could not stop the moans from escaping her lips,
her body trembled with the invading pleasure, the warm liquid from her womanly
folds gushing all over him, her nails digging into his chest... betrayed by her
body yet again. At this Antonin growled, “You look such a pretty thing in that
tiara” He was panting and breathless, touching her face and grabbing at her
backside. Astoria kissed his fingers and Antonin tensed, which she took to mean
that it was nearly over. Indeed, Antonin then flipped her onto her back to pump
inside her, hard, finally spilling his seed in her womb.
 
The rest of the night passed without incident, Antonin even allowing Astoria to
look in on Leonidas after dinner. Leo had grown considerably, even though it
had been just under a moon’s turn since she had last laid eyes on him. “He
grows,” Astoria murmured, as they both stood over the crib. “I daresay he shall
be as tall as you one day husband.” Antonin gave a satisfied smile but said
nothing. Leo began to stir then, and opened his large, lilac eyes to stare at
them. When he saw Astoria, he gave a happy gurgle and raised his arms towards
her, she thought her heart might burst. But instead of picking him up, she
kissed Antonin instead, not wanting his jealousy to erupt. “I am sure he will
be a great wizard” She whispered in Antonin’s ear.
 
“Indeed,” he replied, Astoria’s kiss had stirred him, she knew. “You may bid
the boy goodnight and join me in the Lord’s bedchamber.” It was just what
Astoria had intended. She picked up Leo, gave him a quick hug and a kiss, and
laid him back down, grateful for at least being able to touch him, however
briefly.
 
The next morn, Antonin informed Astoria that they would be going riding as he
had matters of import to discuss with her. Astoria did not see why he could not
just tell her over breakfast, but was not about to question him. Thus, Mary had
brought out her riding habit to wear that day, a cumbersome garment consisting
of a jacket, shirt, waistcoat and long skirts. It was scarlet velvet, heavily
embroidered with gold rope and thread on the cuffs, lapels and on the hem of
the skirt. White lace from her shirt spilled from the sleeves and her collar,
the waistcoat crafted from pure gold brocade. Mary had done her hair in a low,
elegant bun and placed a matching scarlet topper upon her head, adorned with
white ostrich plumes and real roses. Finally, Mary slid delicate white kid
gloves onto her hands and tried to offer her a golden riding whip, but she
refused. Astoria did not and would not beat her animals to bend them to her
will.
 
Antonin was waiting for her at the foot of the staircase, dressed in a black
velvet riding tailcoat, dark breeches, and shiny, high topped boots. “Ah good
morn my lady, you look beautiful, such a charming habit you have on today.” He
called. When she reached him, Antonin kissed her full on the lips and Astoria
took his proffered hand, allowing him to lead her to the back of the palace to
the stables.
 
Their unicorn mounts were already saddled and bridled when they arrived. Nero,
the black stallion and Solaris, a pretty pale golden mare who had a shining
white mane and tail with a matching horn. They were pawing the ground
restlessly as she and Antonin both approached. Astoria always rode side saddle,
Father had never allowed her to ride astride as he felt it was ‘unbecoming’ and
‘sluttish’ for a witch to do so. Antonin grasped her by the waist and easily
lifted her up onto Solaris’ back, her long skirts draping over the unicorns
quarters. Nero was huge, at least eighteen hands high, but due to Antonin’s own
great height, he mounted him easily from the ground, despite Nero constantly
moving about, such was his nervousness of Antonin. A few vicious bangs from
Antonin’s wand seemed to be enough to cow the poor animal and make him more
docile. They set off at a brisk canter towards the grounds, and Antonin said
nothing until they finally slowed to a walk when they reached the forest.
 
“The Dark Lord is making preparations to conquer the rest of Europe” Antonin
said without preamble. “He hopes that the next to fall will be France, that is
where he plans to strike first. That Mudblood French Minister has slighted him
and the Dark Order far too many times to go unanswered for this long, and his
Lordship intends to make him pay.” He smirked slightly and went on as the
unicorn’s hooves thudded softly upon the leafy ground, “The Dark Lord knows
that France will not be easy to conquer, so he has declared that much of his
forces will be stationed over there for a minimum of two years. That includes
us.” Astoria looked at him, trying to conceal the shock on her face, two
years?Antonin then answered her unasked question. “We shall leave three lunar
cycles from now, while all his plans are set in place and – and the boy shall
join us a moon’s turn after, accompanied by Rathburne. He informs me that it is
unwise for the boy to be apart from his Mother for such a long period while his
magic still develops.” Astoria was still trying to take this all in when
Antonin continued on, relentlessly. “Headquarters in France,” he then gave an
evil smile, “Shall be at the Castle of Count Dracula. He is most sympathetic to
the Dark Order’s aims and shares a hatred for the Mudblood Minister who has
been trying to capture and kill him for years.”
 
Astoria’s insides seemed to have frozen. Raise Leo in a war zone and in the
home of a murderous Vampire?  It was repugnant, it was grotesque. Yes, she
wanted to be with her son, but she would rather he be far out of harm’s way if
this was how things were going to be. Count Dracula for Merlin’s sake!Count
Dracula was the most notorious and feared Vampire in all of France, it was said
he had bitten more people than any other, and had evaded capture for centuries.
No one had yet succeeded in finding his elusive castle either, which was
rumoured to be hidden deep within the gloomy Dauphine Alps. Astoria merely sat
there, horror silently crashing over her as they rode on for over two hours.
She looked without truly seeing as Antonin made short work of six red wolves, a
white elk and a golden bear, the latter of which had come charging down a hill
at them, thoroughly terrifying the unicorns. Antonin had summoned Iddi to the
grounds and commanded her to skin and gut the elk for meat. As they were riding
back did he asked, “So, does my lady have a taste for roast elk tonight?”
 
The days rolled by far too quick for Astoria’s liking, and she spent as much
time as Antonin permitted her with Leo, dreading the day when they had to leave
for France. Too soon though, the day finally came when their trunks were
packed, and a portkey awaited them in the Lord’s bedchamber. Mary was holding
Leo in her arms as Astoria gave him a firm kiss on the forehead, fighting back
the tears. She turned away as the portkey began to glow blue, touched her
finger to it and was instantly whirled through a scene of colour and light,
Antonin beside her. Seconds later, they were standing at the foot of twenty
roughhewn steps, an imposing stone castle looming above, set between two
mountains. Astoria looked around her, it was a dark, bleak place. The mountains
surrounding them were black and smoking, some of them slightly aflame and
oozing lava. Acrid smoke hung in the air, the sky was a charcoal grey and there
was no sign of the sun. Dragons wheeled high above the castle and Astoria saw
one break away from the group to land on a distant, fiery mountain, spreading
its wings with a roar that was audible even from here. There was a bubbling
black lake to the right of the castle, but Astoria doubted that anything lived
within, and even if it did, she dreaded to think what manner of creatures they
may be. She glanced over her shoulder. There was no greenery in sight, only
high jagged bits of rock littered the ground, which necessitated the need for
the black bridge that joined up to the stairs, stretching far away into the
smoke.
 
 Antonin waved his wand and their trunks vanished, she took his hand and they
began to walk up the steps toward the forbidding castle. The doors were fifty
feet high and done in black steel, the knocker in the likeness of a Vampire’s
snarling face, fangs bared. As Astoria looked up, she saw two crow cages
hanging from the castle filled with human bones, they were creaking as if in a
breeze, though there was no breath of wind to be felt. The turrets of the
castle were merely masses of twisted, black metal spikes. This was also true
for the highest, largest point of the castle, except this turret had a queer
red glow in the centre among all the metal. They waited at the doors which
slowly swung open, and Astoria barely stifled a gasp. She could not help it,
she had never seen a Vampire before, let alone fourVampires. The Vampires were
waiting in the long narrow hallway for them, one male and three females behind
him.
 
They were all pale as snow and skeletally thin with dark shadows under their
eyes. The effect was eerie, almost frightening. The male with the grey streaked
dark hair must be Dracula, Astoria thought. Indeed, he stepped forward and said
in a raspy French accent that sounded like death, “Ahh, Monsieur Dolohov,
Madame Dolohov, you are being most welcome at the Castle of Count Dracula.”
Dracula planted a kiss on her hand which felt like a shard of ice through the
leather of her glove. He shook Antonin’s hand, showing lethal looking fangs in
what may have been a smile. “The Dark Lord is speaking to me most highly of you
Monsieur. I look forward to knowing you better.” He said to Antonin, who looked
smug and not the least bit afraid of these strange beings. Dracula waved a bony
hand in the direction of the women standing behind him. “My I present, my
wives. This is Valeria.” A blonde Vampire woman stepped forward and curtsied.
“And here we have Natalia and Zinnia” Two other dark haired Vampire women
stepped forward and followed suit. “Now, I shall be having someone show you up
to your rooms…Jinky!” And the queerest House Elf Astoria had ever seen appeared
at once by Dracula’s knee. Jinky, like her Master was pale, thin and had
shadows under her eyes. Jinky was dressed in a black linen toga, and Astoria
thought the creature looked like a corpse.
 
“Yes, Master Dracula” she squeaked in a croaky French accent.
 
“Show our guests to their rooms and see that they do not want for anything.”
Dracula commanded. He turned back to Antonin, “Dinner will be served at eight,
and I am sure by that time the rest of your fellow Mangemorts-” Dracula was
suddenly brought up short, “Ah, my apologies, your fellow Death Eaters, will
have arrived.”
 
“You are most kind Count Dracula, my wife and I thank you” replied Antonin,
inclining his head toward the Vampire as they both swept down the hallway after
the undead House Elf.
 
The interior of the Castle was just as unpleasant as the exterior. The fire
sconces set into the wall were human skulls, flames gushing out of the tops of
their heads, frozen smiles and empty eye sockets seemed to follow them as they
went past in mute appeal. There were many dreadful tapestries and paintings
littered about the corridors too. Astoria supposed they were meant to be
erotic, but she found them vulgar and disgusting. Many depicted Count Dracula
ripping out the throats of beautiful, naked girls, or else entwined in love
with his three wives after sacrificing a virgin, all of them covered in blood.
The apartments where she and Antonin were situated were decorated in black,
charcoal and blood red. The ceilings were high and there was a large window at
the centre of the bedchamber, which gave a horrid view of the blazing mountains
and flying dragons outside. A large fireplace was crackling twenty feet or so
opposite the bed. Without it, the room would have been desperately cold seeing
as there was no carpet, only hard stone. She supposed vampires had no need for
warmth. The bathing suite was spacious, but again it was dark and imposing,
done from floor to ceiling in black marble. There was also a small seating area
and dining chamber, though Astoria rather thought that the Dark Lord would
insist that everyone eat downstairs while they were staying here. Every room
and corridor in the place had to be lit by candlelight, as there was no sun.
She hated it, she hated everything about this foul Castle and could not believe
that she would have to spend at leasttwo years or more living in a place that
looked like hell itself, not to mention having to raise her son here when he
finally joined them. It was a most rancorous prospect.
 
After Antonin had bedded her, it was almost time for dinner, so Astoria
summoned the House Elf, Jinky, to help her dress. Tonight, she was wearing a
gown of Antonin’s choosing, he would often insist on selecting what she wore,
particularly in the evening. The gown was very revealing of course, crafted
from black lace and decorated with silken, royal blue bows. It came off the
shoulders and was cut so low and laced so tight that her breasts were
practically spilling out. The back came down in a ‘V’ shape exposing more of
her flesh. The skirts were fitted but the train flowed out three feet behind
her, the black lace gathered in pleats, at least fourteen of them, each pleat
accented with a bow, each bow becoming larger until the last one that trailed
on the floor was the size of a dinner plate. A whore’s dressshe thought.
Antonin had commanded Mary to craft it not too long before they had left.
Jinky, like Dracula, had an ice cold touch, and Astoria could not help but
shiver as the Elf fastened sapphires and black diamonds to her ears and neck.
Astoria’s hair was so long now, almost to her hips, so Jinky fashioned it into
a half updo, her long loose curls cascading down her back, the front of her
hair swept out of her face into a twist. As Astoria drew on long black silken
gloves that came up to her elbows, Antonin came into the room clad in royal
blue robes, a lewd smile twisting his face at the sight of her in the gown.
 
“You look magnificent this eve my love, shall we?” He said, holding out his
hand. Predictably, all the Death Eaters were downstairs in the blood red dining
hall when they walked through an archway shaped like a monsters mouth. This was
easily the brightest room Astoria had seen thus far in the Castle; the red
seemed to hit the eyes and one could not help but think about blood. Astoria
and Antonin were greeting everyone when they came face to face with Silas
Norton. When he looked at Astoria, Silas’ jaw dropped, and he began to ogle at
her chest, his mismatched eyes popping. Antonin burst out laughing. “My wife’s
eyes are up here Silas!” he said, gently touching Astoria under her chin. He
gave Silas’ brown hair a good natured ruffle, still chortling. Silas hastily
bowed over Astoria’s gloved hand to kiss it, grinning somewhat sheepishly.
 
Suddenly, a loud dinner gong reverberated around the long, cavernous hall. It
was an ominous sound, not at all inviting. Everyone made for the table to stand
behind their seats, all knowing where to go due to the floating bits of
parchment hovering above their plates bearing their names. The Dark Lord came
sweeping into the room and sat at the head of the table. As usual, no one sat
until he did. Astoria and Antonin were once again seated to his Lordship’s left
and Bellatrix to his right. Astoria was sat directly opposite Dracula, flanked
by two of his wives, the third seated a little further down and looking sulky.
This seating arrangement made her very uncomfortable. As they were served
bloody beef, live oysters, chicken hearts and half raw swordfish, Astoria was
acutely aware of Dracula’s eyes constantly upon her breasts and travelling up
to her neck, a hungry look in his yellow eyes, as if longing to plunge his
fangs into her. Astoria was sure that Dracula and his wives were not drinking
the red Elf made wine like everyone else, but blood. The sight sickened her
more than she could say.
 
At last, dessert was finally served, Ortolan birds glazed in honey. Astoria
could hardly be surprised at this repulsive dish being chosen by Dracula. The
Ortolan bird was blinded in order to make it feed excessively so it doubled in
size, after which it was then drowned alive in brandy, then roasted for a few
minutes before eating; head, bones and all. Astoria forced herself to eat the
vile thing, not wanting to anger her husband. She wanted to vomit as the little
bones of the bird crunched between her teeth and its lungs exploded with brandy
in her mouth. After she had choked down the bird, there was an upswing of
jeering and yelling. Fenrir Greyback was hauling over two score weeping Muggle
slaves into the dining hall, bound in chains.
 
“Ahh, Fenrir” said the Dark Lord, speaking for the first time in his high, cold
voice. “I see that you have brought our gifts for our noble host, Count
Dracula.” Fenrir Greyback gave an amused grunt and rattled the chains,
provoking more laughter.
 
“I have more than this lot, Count” growled Fenrir, giving Dracula a clumsy bow.
 
“You are being most generous, my Lord.” Called Dracula in his raspy, French
accent. “Fenrir, you may take them to the dungeons where, I shall…eh sample
them later.” Everyone laughed as the Muggles were dragged out of sight, but
none louder than the Dark Lord, his high cold cackle piercing the air.
 
Afterward, the witches had departed to one side of the Castle, and the wizards
to another to engage in drink and merriment. Antonin was very drunk and had one
massive arm flung around Silas, who was cackling shrilly at some unknown jape
as they staggered out of the room. Adelaide Yaxley, who seemed to be fully
recovered from her trip into the river, slipped her arm into Astoria’s as they
left for a chamber on the West side of the Castle, chattering excitedly about
the Vampires and how curious she found them. No sooner had Astoria disentangled
herself from Adelaide when they arrived in the chamber, she was roped into
conversation with Elizabeth Nott Yaxley, whom she had not seen since her
wedding to Corban. Elizabeth had recently given birth to a daughter and was
harping on about how disappointed she and her husband were. All Astoria had to
do was nod and look sympathetic, offering meaningless words, privately feeling
that Elizabeth should be glad to be a Mother at all, regardless of the sex of
her child. However, Astoria could imagine how angry Antonin would have beeen if
their first child had ended up being a daughter rather than a son.
 
After a time, Astoria had grown tired of Elizabeth’s whinging and Drisella
Selwyn’s crude jokes which she was shouting to the room at large, such was her
drunkenness. Astoria had been grateful to Drisella when she had healed her in
Holland, but the more time she spent in the girl’s company, the less she liked
her. Truly, the only attractive things about Drisella were her black curly hair
and deep grey eyes, her features were marred by her sadistic expression and
that unfortunate Selwyn nose. Astoria muttered her farewells to the witches on
her way out as she took her leave. Her footsteps echoed as she swept up the
grim, stone staircase adorned by more skulls, through the corridors and up
another small staircase to reach her and Antonin’s apartments. Once again, she
called Jinky to help her undress. After the Elf had left, Astoria slid naked
onto her stomach upon the bed. She occasionally sipped some wine and swung her
legs absentmindedly, steeling herself for when her husband finally came
upstairs.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     With regard to Antonin giving Astoria the tiara, it is a common trait
     for rapists/murderers to take trophies from their victims and it
     gives them sexual gratification to see their partner or whatever
     wearing said trophies as it's like re living their crimes. That's
     what I was going for in that respect.
     Ortolan birds: considered one of the cruellest cuisines in the world
     as outlined in the chapter and banned in many countries.
***** XVIII. - Beauxbatons *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter covers more of the Death Eaters activities abroad and
     some original characters coming back who have only been mentioned
     briefly in previous chapters. There's also a character who appears in
     the films but not in the original book.
     Warning: graphic material.
     Same disclaimer applies.
     *Edit* - I am currently working on the next chapter as up until now I
     have been re working skeleton chapters that I've already written, so
     from now on everything is completely new and I will try and post one
     a week. The next one should be finished later tonight or tomorrow.
     Thanks for reading and the Kudos' :)
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The next week or so spent at the Castle of Count Dracula was a fairly tedious
one. Astoria and her fellow Death Eaters would spend their days in a gloomy
stone chamber on the Eastern side of the castle, overlooking the hideous black
lake outside that the Dark Lord had dubbed, the ‘War Room.’ They would spend
hours at a time in there listening to the Dark Lord outline his plans to crush
France, as Dracula’s House Elves refilled their goblets of wine. Astoria
glimpsed Severus Snape, who had arrived at the Castle a day late. She knew that
he had been heading the campaign to suppress Poland for over a year, and he
looked dreadful. His sallow skin was tinged with grey, his greasy hair was
thinning, and the harsh lines on his face were deeper than ever before. The
other Death Eaters that had joined him in Poland were also in attendance;
Crabbe, Goyle, Hestia Carrow and many others who she had not seen since she had
been living at Malfoy Manor. All of them looked as dishevelled and tired as
Snape, though none more so than Hestia, niece to Alecto and Amycus Carrow. It
was said that her identical twin sister, Flora, had been blown to smithereens
by Polish aurors when they had attacked the capital, Warsaw. Flora’s death had
apparently driven Hestia half mad, and she was now uncharacteristically
bloodthirsty, whereas before she was not particularly battle orientated.
Astoria could believe that, Hestia’s brown eyes were now cold and dead looking,
not curious with a hint of mischief as Astoria had remembered them.
 
On the eighth day of these meetings in the 'War Room', the Dark Lord gave them
all some news. “It seems that one of my many spies has given me some
veryinteresting information” he said in his high, cold voice. His Lordship was
seated at the Head of the long table, every eye upon him. “Yes, very
interesting indeed. My source informs me that one Kingsley Shacklebolt is
currently hiding out at the Palace of Beauxbatons and intends to lend
his…talents to that filthy Mudblood Minister Gustave Clement to try and prevent
us from conquering France.” The Dark Lord tightened his white hand into a fist
in anger, and Astoria could almost feel his rage pulsing through the room. “So,
I have decided we should strike first at Beauxbatons and capture Shacklebolt.
Not only to prevent him from reaching the Minister, but I am convinced that he
will have information on Potter that may well lead me to finding and killing
him at last. He is one of the last remaining Order members and I feel sure
Potter would have sought aid from him. So, you are to restrain Shacklebolt when
you find him, do not  kill him until I have had the chance to force information
out of him, is that understood?” There were murmurs of assent at his words.
Silas looked eager, his disfigured face shining with cruel enthusiasm at the
prospect of torturing Shacklebolt. Astoria knew that he wanted to pay
Shacklebolt back in kind for this maimed eye. “We shall strike at Beauxbatons
two days hence, I shall inform you of my exact commands and battleplans at
noon, you are all dismissed for now.” The Dark Lord finished.
 
After the Dark Lord had taken his leave, all streamed out of the chamber,
through an antechamber and into a cavernous throne room, a grotesque throne
made from human bones and skull drew the eye, positioned upon several steps.
Many Death Eaters were now talking excitedly in groups, discussing what had
been covered in the meeting. Silas then came darting over to Astoria and
Antonin.
 
“Shacklebolt.” Silas breathed at her husband, a sinister look in his mismatched
eyes. “I can scarcely wait to turn my wand on that filthy Blood Traitor. I can
only pray that the Dark Lord will give Shacklebolt to meonce he is ready to
dispose of him, then he will be very sorry indeed for what he did.” Silas
gestured at his scarred eye, now looking murderous.
 
Antonin clapped him on the shoulder “I understand your need for vengeance my
boy, but do not forget, this scar merely proves that you are brave, you…” The
rest of his words were lost as he and Silas started to walk to the other side
of the throne room.
 
Antonin and Silas now seemed to be inseparable. A perfect matchAstoria thought,
revolted. Though she could not be surprised, they were both as wicked and cruel
as one another, Antonin seemingly viewing Silas as his sort of protégé. This
filled Astoria full of disquiet when she thought of her innocent son back home.
She was determined do anything and everything within her power to ensure her
husband did not corrupt Leo to become a monster like himself or Silas. Indeed,
Silas seemed to idolise Antonin in turn. He now wore his hair in the same
slicked back fashion as her husband, would listen avidly whenever Antonin
recalled brutal campaigns to him over dinner, and would laugh loudly and
sycophantically at his lewd jokes. Well, Astoria thought, Silas was welcome to
her husband’s company if he desired it so much, the less time she had to spend
with Antonin, the better. Astoria saw Hestia Carrow leaning on a stone wall
with her arms folded and staring blankly across the hall. She decided to
approach her. After all, Hestia and her sister had also been quiet at school
and Astoria had gotten on with both of them. She wondered if Hestia was as
truly changed as people whispered.
 
“Good morn Hestia, how-how are you fairing?” Astoria asked, tentatively.
 
Hestia turned her head slowly towards Astoria and said, “Fine.” Her cold eyes
then swivelled back to stare across the hall.
 
Astoria forced herself to make more conversation. “I daresay, this siege of
Beauxbatons, I feel it may be-”
 
But Hestia cut her off “I can scarcely wait Astoria” and a demonic smile
twisted her once expressionless features so quickly, it was alarming. “The
students, the aurors, we are going to kill them all. I can almost hear their
screams of pain. No amount of blood and terror will ever bring Flora back, but
every traitor struck down for the Dark Lord gives me sweet vengeance when I lay
my head down to sleep at night. It keeps me warmI tell you.” Hestia’s eyes were
shining with such crazed bloodlust and enthusiasm, it was disturbing, almost
frightening.
 
“As you- as you say, Hestia.” Astoria replied, backing away from the leering
face of Hestia Carrow, this girl who she now scarcely recognised. A girl who
had now been twisted into a brutal monster by the War in mind, body and soul.
 
There was a riotous feast the night before they were to lay siege to
Beauxbatons and the anticipation in the air was palpable. Like all the meals
Astoria had taken thus far at the Castle, most of the food was foul and not to
her taste at all. Roasted pelicans lined the table with their heads, beaks,
feathers and all. Frogs whose stomach’s had been cut open to reveal their
innards twitched horribly on platters, and Astoria was revolted when Antonin
served her a slice of jellied eel pie which was bad enough in itself, but was
made worse by the fact that the baby eels within were still squirming, alive.
The veal was passable, but very rare and Astoria could not finish her own
portion due to Antonin constantly offering her morsels of the meat to nibble
off his dining dagger. Silas was practically bouncing with excitement, thickly
spreading foie gras over his food and quaffing copious amounts of wine, his
reedy voice becoming louder and louder.
 
Astoria could have almost thanked the Dark Lord when he screeched across the
dining hall, “Right! That is enough! I command you all to retire to your
chambers! At once!” Everyone fell silent and took their leave as soon as the
Dark Lord swept from the room.
 
As Astoria got up to leave, Dracula addressed her. “Good fortune to you for
tomorrow, Madame Dolohov.” Dracula was still seated, and he had a hairless cat
with pale green eyes lying in his lap, scratching the creature behind the ears
with his long, pointed fingernails. Antonin, who had been in conversation with
Yaxley, looked around. “I hope you will be taking care of your lovely wife at
the siege of Beauxbatons tomorrow.” Dracula said to Antonin as he bared his
long fangs in a horrible smile, his yellow eyes swivelling from Antonin back to
Astoria, and he continued to fix on her intently. “She is...ah, most beautiful.
I am thinking I would not let her out of my sight if I were you.” Finished
Dracula.
 
Antonin gave Dracula a satisfied smirk. “I rarely do, good Count.” Astoria took
Antonin's arm and they both swept from the hall.
 
When they were back in their chambers Astoria said, timidly, “I do not like the
way that Vampire looks at me, it fills me with fright.”
 
Antonin stared at her, then laughed. “Do not be such a little fool, wife. Count
Dracula was merely speaking the truth and you know it.” Antonin then approached
her, his eyes travelling up and down her form, “And what is more” He whispered,
“Dracula is right, you are so very beautiful, I am unable to keep my hands off
of you. I doubt I will get much rest this eve, my darling, I am going to fuck
you all night.” And Antonin drew her in forcefully for a kiss.
 
The next morn, everyone gathered in Dracula’s throne room to receive their
final instructions from the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord himself would not be
accompanying them to lay siege to the Palace, he would not come until he had
confirmation that they had captured Shacklebolt. Snape was to be in charge of
them all on this occasion, and Astoria rather thought she saw a flicker of
resentment cross Antonin’s face when the Dark Lord announced this. He clearly
wanted to head this campaign as he had done so in Holland. They were to take as
many prisoners as possible which were to be given as gifts to appease Count
Dracula, preferably young girls, but boys would be acceptable too. Other than
that, they were to slay all within the Palace, especially the Professors and
aurors, so Minister Clement could not utilise their powers in his fight against
the Dark Order. If anyone were to be injured, then they were to summon Healer
Charles Beckwith, who had been captured in Britain when the country had been in
open warfare, and had been brought to France by Corban Yaxley. Astoria had
already met Beckwith briefly two days past, he had been hurrying through the
castle corridors and had almost ran past her before hastily giving her a low
bow and introducing himself. Beckwith was young for a Healer, he was a nervous
looking wizard in his middling thirties, with dirty blonde hair and slightly
shaky hands. Astoria wondered how many would need Beckwith’s remonstrations
before the day was done.
 
"Do not fail me Death Eaters!" Shrieked the Dark Lord, as they all departed
from the throne room once dismissed.
 
The Death Eaters stepped out into the gloomy morning air, thick with smoke and
cloud so that the black, flaming mountains surrounding the castle were barely
discernible. There were cries of surprise as the massive, dark shape of a
dragon appeared thirty feet above, gliding along in the air serenely, but it
made no move to attack them. Two hundred strong, they began to walk along the
bridge, away from the castle in order to disapparate beyond the magical bonds
that kept Dracula’s abode hidden and safe. After crossing the bridge, Astoria
gazed around the mountain range, it was barely distinguishable from whence they
had just come. Black cavernous mountains and abysses stretched out as far as
the eye could see. The scene was utterly desolate.
 
“We are to apparate to the Pyrenees mountains South-West of here, and approach
the Palace by stealth.” Came Snape’s voice from the swirling smoke. Astoria
could just about make out his hook nosed profile as he spoke. We are to
approach from afar, it is likely that there will be Ministry protection and
aurors around the perimeter, so we shall put our efforts together to
incapacitate and kill them as discussed previously. Now, on my count. One, two,
three!”
 
They apparated to a scene vastly different from the one they had just left.
There was grass carpeting the hills and mountains, with small wild flowers
littering the surface, sparkling with early morning dew. The sun was rising
gently in the sky, song birds could be heard twittering in the trees, and white
rabbits scattered at their appearance. This place has life, it is pure,
uncorrupted.Astoria thought, but not for long.
 
Snape stood in front of the group of Death Eaters. Clad in black robes, they
seemed to be blotting the beautiful landscape around them, like a large black
bruise. “Bubble Head charms.” Snape said in his cold voice. As one, Astoria and
her fellow Death Eaters raised their wands and conjured up the charm, their
heads all magnified oddly, but they would need the protection. “Now, the gas.”
Continued Snape, and once again, all raised their wands to emit colourless,
odourless Mustard Gas into the air. At once, birds began to drop out of trees,
flowers wilted, and the grass turned brown, the gas destroying everything in
its path. They all waited for close to an hour, some Death Eaters sitting down
on the dead grass and talking to one another quietly. At last Snape checked his
watch and said, “That should be enough time by now.” He waved his wand to clear
the air and his Bubble Head charm vanished, the other Death Eaters following
suit. “Now, let us go. I want you all to spread out to make sure there are no
stragglers who may have escaped, we do not want the Ministry alerted to our
presence until we have got Shacklebolt.” They split into groups of fifty, with
two groups apparating further afield to carry out Snape’s instructions. As they
crept down the mountain, Astoria began to see more of the devastation that the
Mustard Gas had caused. A wizard in plain, dark green, Ministry of France robes
was twitching on the ground, still alive, but barely. He had vomited up half of
his lungs, the pink, bloody, cauliflower like pieces had been spewed all over
his front and were dripping on to the dead grass. Red froth and mucus bubbled
from his mouth and his skin was covered in large, pus filled blisters. Josiah
Zabini raised his wand and pointed it at the wizard, but Snape caught him by
the arm and said “No. He will be dead in minutes, and I do not want any magic
used until it is time to break through Beauxbatons perimeters.” More bodies of
wizards who had coughed up their own lungs were littered all over the
mountainside as they drew nearer to Beauxbatons. Finally, they reached flatter
ground and came within sight of a forest. All the other Death Eaters who had
canvassed the area then apparated back to the rest of the group. “In there. You
know what to do.” Said Snape, pointing a yellow finger at the trees.
 
Snape raised his wand and a smoky, black snake burst from his wand tip. The
other Death Eaters followed suit, their own smoking snakes coiling through the
air to join Snape’s, to form a single, enormous cobra, which let out a ghostly
hiss. The sound chilled Astoria to the bone as the cobra glided through the air
toward the forest, filling it with black smoke which rose to permeate the sky
with its dark tendrils. It was as though the trees were smouldering without
fire. Then, without warning, there were innumerable snapping sounds, like a
thousand mousetraps going off over and over again. The sound reverberated
ominously in the still morning air as the magical perimeters broke. Snape said
nothing but strode forward into the forest, all the Death Eaters spreading out
behind him to follow. After trudging through the trees for a time, Astoria saw
it. The Palace of Beauxbatons was more like a traditional château rather than a
Palace, though it was vast and flanked by two large turrets. The Death Eaters
kept to the trees in the gardens that surrounded it, not coming out into the
open. They were to wait for Snape’s signal and apparate straight into the
dining hall, which is where all of the Palace occupants would be at this time.
Astoria pressed her back flat into a large redwood, heart hammering. She then
saw green sparks appear above the smoking chimneys of the Palace, and knew it
was time. Astoria turned on the spot and heard many other ‘pops’as her fellow
Death Eaters did the same.
 
When they all appeared in the dining hall within the Palace of Beauxbatons,
there was an ear splitting burst of noise. The screams and yells of terror from
near three hundred throats echoed off the sparkling walls, and the hall seemed
to explode with movement as china plates and glass goblets smashed all over the
floor as the students scattered. But there was nowhere to run, the Death Eaters
were blocking all the escape routes. The Professors on the other hand, all
raised their wands, Olympe Maxime shouting out instructions to them in French.
Astoria was plunged into the fray at once, a curly haired witch of an age with
herself shot a spell at her, narrowly missing her cheek. There was not even a
duel however, Astoria had struck the witch dead before she could even utter
another incantation. At this, Astoria heard a scream of rage and anguish to her
left. Olympe Maxime was charging toward her, wand raised, and a flash of white
light grazed Astoria’s hip. Astoria staggered slightly, but pointed her wand
back at the huge woman. Black ropes burst from the end of her wand tip to wrap
around Maxime’s body, pinning her arms to her sides and forcing her legs
together, causing her to topple and smash into a nearby dining table. Maxime
screamed as the broken glass and china tore the flesh of her face to red
ribbons. Astoria had no time to contemplate what she should do with Maxime, for
her left ear suddenly stung with a scorching pain. She whirled to find herself
face to face with Gabrielle Delacour, her beautiful face filled with rage.
Astoria began to duel the younger witch, their gold and silver hair flying
respectively as they whirled, ducked and dived. Gabrielle was skilful enough
for one her age, but she only seemed to be avoiding Astoria’s curses by very
quickly dodging them and her own spells, excepting the first, could not touch
Astoria.
 
Adelaide Yaxley then came hurtling out of nowhere at Gabrielle, screaming
obscenities and firing hexes all over the place. “Half breed Veela whore!
Harpy! Slut!” Caught off guard by Adelaide’s sudden appearance, Gabrielle
turned. Astoria took her chance and shot a jet of blue light at the younger
witch, and though it had only hit her in the arm, Gabrielle screamed and fell.
Adelaide gave a nasty smile, “Nice one Astoria-” But before she could say any
more, the two of them were knocked back in opposite directions as a spell hit
the wall they had been standing next to.
 
Astoria struggled to her knees and peered out from behind an overturned table.
Chaos reigned in the Beauxbatons hall. Antonin was laughing as he shot stunning
spells at every young witch in sight. As he did so, each girl was automatically
clapped in chains and fell with a crash to the floor. Rowle waved his wand so
that the daggers from the dining table soared at an older wizard, who looked to
be a Professor, impaling him against the wall, rivers of blood running down his
cream robes where each of the blades had struck. Silas meanwhile was capering
wildly on the spot, firing out curses with reckless abandon and cackling madly,
looking like some demented imp. Clarence Avery seemed to be enjoying himself
hugely as he blasted off the limbs and heads of the scattering, terrified
students. Amycus Carrow was setting them alight, watching with glee as they ran
about the hall on fire, screaming in agony. William Jugson was also killing all
within his reach using the Expulsocurse, blowing his victims to pieces, their
innards flying everywhere.
 
Suddenly, Astoria heard the other Death Eater’s yells of “Shacklebolt!
Shacklebolt!” She leapt to her feet and saw that Kingsley Shacklebolt had burst
into the hall, his face harsher and harder than Astoria had recalled, but his
expression of cold hatred was just the same. Shacklebolt pointed his wand at
her but she deflected his spell, causing a fire sconce on the wall to explode,
the flames licking at a portrait. He then shot a hurling hex at Augustus
Rookwood, who was lifted thirty feet into the air and went smashing through one
of the stained glass windows out of sight. Fenrir Greyback then charged at
Shacklebolt, but he made a sharp movement with his wand and the werewolf’s side
was slashed open, dark blood spilling everywhere. Greyback gave a howl of pain
as he staggered and fell, clutching at his wounded side.
 
At this increased din, Silas whirled around wildly, and upon seeing Kingsley,
his mismatched eyes seemed to pop with rage. He let out his high pitched
screech which seemed to rip through the air. “SHACKLEBOLT!” And Silas hurtled
towards the older wizard, brandishing his wand, screaming incoherently and
looking utterly crazed. Mulciber also seemed to be running in Shacklebolt’s
direction to back up Silas.
 
Astoria’s view of Silas and Shacklebolt was blocked as Alecto Carrow pointed
her wand at table nearest the wall which flew up into the air in a cloud of
black smoke. It began to melt and leak with what must have been acid as it
began to melt the flesh of the pupils who had been cowering underneath.
Horrible shrieks rent the air as the students tried to crawl away, but now some
had their eyeballs running down their faces and others were no more than
congealing pools of entrails and bone upon the floor. Alecto cackled wheezily
as she beheld her horrific work. Snape paced backward across Astoria’s path, he
was duelling two wizards who looked to be in their twenties, they all moved so
fast that their wands appeared blurred. Try as they might though, neither of
the wizard’s curses could touch Snape, he was far too skilful. At the far end
of the hall, Astoria glimpsed Hestia Carrow. She had lined up eight students
who seemed to be rooted to the spot by enchantments, screaming and crying.
Hestia then made a slashing movement with her wand and all the students were
decapitated at once, their knees buckling, their heads rolling, and blood
spurted all over Hestia’s face as she laughed and shrieked like a maniac,
seemingly overjoyed.
 
Olympe Maxime meanwhile, had been freed of the spell Astoria had cast upon her
before, however, Astoria now felt she should have just killed her on the spot.
The Zabini brothers and Theodore Nott had stripped Maxime naked and put her in
a cage that was too small for her great height so that she was hunched. They
appeared to have added to Maxime’s disfigurement from her collision with the
table before, and blinded her. Two red, angry, bleeding holes where where her
eyeballs should have been, and all three were hexing and cursing her over and
over, leaving bruises and welts all over her body. The Zabini’s and Nott were
howling with derisive laughter as Maxime begged and screamed for them to just
kill her. Astoria turned away and her lilac eyes swept the scene to behold the
carnage. At least eighty girls and thirty boys were chained up on the western
side of the hall. There were no more than half a dozen duelling pairs left now,
and many Death Eaters merely leaned against the wall watching, knowing that
they had won. Bodies of young and old alike were strewn everywhere, some
charred and blackened beyond recognition. Blood spattered the walls, most of
the furniture was smashed, and Astoria could scarcely take a few steps before
coming across mutilated limbs.
 
At last, blue-grey smoke hung in the air and the only sounds being made were
the sobbing of the chained Beauxbatons students, the moans of those who had not
yet succumbed to death, and the low mutterings of the Death Eaters. Maxime
slumped, dead, in her cage, her skin so battered that there was naught left of
the olive colour it had once been. All were now converging around Rookwood and
Greyback who had been the worst injured. Rookwood, who got priority over the
werewolf for Healing, was bleeding heavily from his head and had broken almost
all of his bones. Healer Beckwith was tapping him with his wand all over,
though Astoria could see that hands were shaking worse than ever as he took in
the sight of the hall around him. Greyback meanwhile, was twitching feebly in a
pool of his own congealing blood, clutching at his side.
 
Silas had still not returned from his pursuit of Shacklebolt. Avery had just
been suggesting that a few of them should follow, when Silas’ shrill, reedy
voice rang out from the entrance hall. “He is gone! He is gone! Shacklebolt is
GONE! He has ESCAPED! Mulciber is DEAD!” Everyone froze and fell silent at
once.
 
Silas then came skidding into the hall, covered in cuts and welts, looking
completely deranged. His usually sweeping, shiny brown hair was singed and
unkempt. Blood oozed from his maimed eye and his face was covered in grime.
Silas was beside himself with rage and was shaking violently. He began
screeching and running all over the hall, foaming at the mouth and ripping out
his hair. No one could seem to get a word of sense out of him. Silas blasted
craters in the walls, set an overturned table on fire and pointed his wand at a
chandelier to bring it crashing to the floor, crystals and candles flying
everywhere, still screaming with fury. Astoria had never seen anything like it
in her life. The other Death Eaters were also staring at Silas, and the
prisoners began to sob even harder at his insane rampage. Antonin looked
faintly amused as Silas destroyed tapestries and blew apart ice statues. Snape,
who sported a nasty gash across his hooked nose was gazing at Silas, his black
eyes unreadable. Suddenly Silas was knocked over as though from a strong gust
of wind and his screams became shriller still. He was back on his feet in no
time however, looking furiously around but then froze, staring at something
just ahead of him.
 
“That will do, Norton.” Said a high, cold voice.
 
As one, all of the Death Eaters spun around to see the Dark Lord standing in
the archway to the hall, the fire from the blazing table shining in his red
eyes and illuminating his chalk white skin. Astoria wondered if he had been
standing there the entire time. Silas fell to his knees. “My Lord!” he cried.
“My Lord, that Blood Traitor coward, Shacklebolt, he killed Mulciber and ran
like a whipped cur into a vanishing cabinet and I could not follow I-”
 
But the Dark Lord held up a pale hand and Silas stopped speaking at once.
“Enough, Norton.” Said the Dark Lord. “Enough.” Silas was trembling as the Dark
Lord began to walk slowly toward him. There was total silence apart from the
crackling flames from the table and his loud, clear footsteps. “I did want
Shacklebolt yes, but Shacklebolt with Beauxbatons Academy behind him is one
thing. Shacklebolt alone and friendless in a country that we shall soon
conquer, is quite another. Without them, it shall be almost impossible for him
to reach the Mudblood Minister.” Silas raised his disfigured, dishevelled face
to stare up at the Dark Lord’s snake like one. The Dark Lord’s lipless mouth
curved in a half smile and he stroked his chin. “Still,” he went on softly,
still smiling slightly. “I would not want you to fail againso…” The Dark Lord
raised his wand. “Crucio.”
 
Silas shrieked in pain and began to writhe and jerk upon the floor, his
mismatched eyes rolling back into his skull. Astoria knew exactly what he was
going through, but she felt no pity, if anyone deserved to be Cruciated,it was
Silas Norton. It was past time that he got a taste of some of the horror he had
inflicted upon countless others. When the Dark Lord had finished torturing
Silas, he lay spluttering and gasping on the ground. As he regained his breath,
Silas crawled up to the Dark Lord’s robes and kissed the hem. “My Lord is
merciful!” he cried. “Thank you, my Lord, thank you! It’s more than I deserve,
I shall never fail you again!”
 
The Dark Lord gave a curt nod and turned to the rest of the Death Eaters,
making no comment on the bloodied forms of Rookwood and Greyback who were both
breathing raggedly. “We shall return to Headquarters at once before the
Ministry gets wind of what has happened here, bring the prisoners.” The Dark
Lord proclaimed in his high, cold voice. “And as for you Snape, I shall deal
with you later, you were supposed to be in charge here.” He went on venomously.
Snape’s skin had turned the colour of curdled milk at his Lordship’s words.
“But first.” The Dark Lord then pointed his wand at the ceiling of the hall.
“Morsmordre!” He screeched. Half the roof was blasted open and debris rained
down on all below, with many conjuring shield charms to protect themselves. The
windows were all smashed, the glass blowing out into the night air as the jet
of green light flew up into the sky to form the glittering Dark Mark. The Dark
Lord began to laugh his high, cold laugh over and over and all the Death Eaters
joined in then, Astoria included as she knew she must. Snape was the only one
who was not laughing. “Now, let us go!” The Dark Lord shrieked.
Chapter End Notes
     Regarding Silas, he is not crazy, just rotten to the core. One of my
     inspirations for his character was Joffrey Baratheon, owned by George
     RR Martin, creator of ASOIAF/Game of Thrones. I killed Mulciber
     because I felt it was time that one of the Death Eaters died. There
     will be another member (or more) of the Mulciber family showing up
     later on the story (non-canon).
***** XIX.- Dracula's Dungeons *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter covers the aftermath of the siege of Beauxbatons, the
     fates of the prisoners and more humiliations that Antonin inflicts
     upon Astoria.
     Same disclaimer applies.
     *Edit* I'm battling with the plot right now trying to get things in
     order so the next one will be may be just over a week away, perhaps
     longer, but I don't intend to leave massive gaps between new
     chapters.
     *Edit* I am roughly halfway through the next one, hope to get it out
     by the weekend.
As Astoria and the Death Eaters trooped back across the bridge toward the
Castle of Count Dracula, a fierce, rushing wind whipped at their cloaks and
robes. Antonin and Corban Yaxley were supporting a grey faced Augustus Rookwood
between them, and Drisella Selwyn had cast a hover charm on Fenrir Greyback,
who had collapsed after apparating while so badly wounded. A hover charm had
also been cast on the dead body of Robert Mulciber, who had seemingly died from
having the left side of his head blasted away, his brains oozing out of his
skull and his right eye dangling out of its socket. All of the combatants bore
marks of the battle, excepting the Dark Lord of course, who had not taken part,
and was striding ahead of them at the head of the grim procession. Adelaide had
two black eyes, Theodore was limping, and Blaise was bruised and swollen on the
right side of his usually, perfect face where Healer Beckwith had mended his
shattered cheekbone. Astoria thought it unlikely that she looked any better,
both her forearms were covered in hex marks and she was bleeding from her right
temple. Silas looked just as bloody and dirty as he had done so at Beauxbatons.
He had attempted to attack Healer Beckwith when he had tried to fix his
injuries, such was his fury, and was now glowering at the ground as he walked.
Astoria rather thought that she could almost feel the waves of rage pouring off
of him. Travers and Avery brought up the rear and were dragging the chained
Beauxbatons students, some of whom were screaming openly at the sight of the
castle and all that surrounded it.
 
When they reached the entrance hall of the castle, Jinky the House Elf was
waiting for them. “Master Dracula is waiting for you’s down in the dungeons My
Lord.” She informed the Dark Lord, curtsying deeply with her head bowed.
 
The Dark Lord said nothing, but swept past the elf, Astoria, the Death Eaters
and their prisoners in tow. They walked for a considerable amount of time
toward the far East side of the castle until they came to a black metal door
covered in spikes. Astoria had never been this far into the castle and did not
want to go any further, there was an unnatural chill in the air and her breath
was misting. She immediately thought of Dementors, but that was impossible, she
had not seen, nor sensed any of the foul creatures since she had taken up
residence in the castle. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the spiked door and
it creaked open, the ice cold air hitting them so hard that Astoria had to work
furiously to stop her teeth chattering. The Dark Lord strode down another
corridor which smelled damp, done all in stone, moisture sliding down the
walls. There were no tapestries, fire sconces, or artwork here, all was dark
and still. The corridor widened to an archway, almost one hundred feet across,
to reveal the steps which led down to the dungeons. Down the steps they went,
the cold now permeating Astoria’s very bones, the cries of the Beauxbatons
prisoners echoing off the stone walls. When they reached the dungeons, they
were met with a grisly scene. Though the corridors and stairway had been dark,
the main dungeon was lit by hundreds of skull fire sconces to illuminate every
horrid detail. The dungeon was large and cavernous with individual cells lining
the walls, and Astoria thought she could hear muffled shrieking drifting from
the bars from one of the six, cylindrical oubliettes that were lined up on the
Eastern wall. There was an array of shackles, hooks, clamps, screws, and all
manner of cruel steel objects lined up on a scarred wooden table, torture
machines littered everywhere. The body of a naked girl hung upside down from a
wooden structure and she looked to have been sawn in half, the jagged blade
stuck between her mid section, as congealing blood dripped onto the floor. Her
skin was chalk white and her innards appeared to be gone, she looked like she
had been carved up and gutted like a freshly hunted deer. Dracula and his wives
were grouped around a racking table where there was another dead girl sprawled
upon its surface. She had been partially disembowelled, and her head lolled to
the side, her blank, empty eyes looking at Astoria accusingly, unseeing.
Valeria was devouring the girl’s heart and chewing on her intestines, which she
held in each hand respectively, blood spilling over her chin and running down
the sleeves of her pale blue gown. Zinnia had her fangs in the girl’s neck,
sucking the blood from her, the body growing paler and paler as she drank.
Dracula meanwhile, was feeding Natalia a strip of skin and flesh that had
clearly been torn from the girl’s thigh, his expression rapturous and aroused.
At the sight of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, they all ceased their
gruesome feasting.
 
“Ah, my Lord.” Dracula rasped, blood bubbling between his fangs as he spoke.
“Forgive us, we were just tasting some of the deliciousgifts you have provided
for myself and my wives.” At this, one of the chained prisoners, a young witch,
fainted, dragging several others down with her, as the others wept and embraced
one another, utterly terrified.
 
“I have fresh meat for you good Count, I feel certain that they will also
please you.” replied the Dark Lord, his high, cold voice echoing in the
cavernous dungeon. “Bring them forward!” He suddenly shrieked, and Avery and
Travers obliged at once, shoving and dragging the prisoners toward the
Vampires.
 
Dracula then gave Natalia a passionate kiss, blood dripping from both of their
lips as they joined, and he proceeded to walk around the racking table to
scrutinise his fresh prey. One by one, Dracula looked into the faces of the
petrified Beauxbatons students. When Dracula came to Gabrielle Delacour, who
had survived Astoria’s curse, he grasped her under the chin and turned her head
from side to side, smearing her porcelain skin with the blood from his hands
and taking a long, deep sniff. “This one, is part Veela.” Dracula announced and
turned toward the Dark Lord. “Veela are looking very sweet, but they are
tasting bad. Still-” He smiled, baring his long fangs and running his greying
tongue over them, “I am sure me and my wives will be getting much pleasure from
her all the same.”
 
At this, Silas pushed forward, seemingly uncowed from his public torture, and
said in his reedy, petulant voice, “I shall take her, if you do not have any
further need of her, Count.” Silas then seized Gabrielle’s arm and there was a
horrible hunger in his mismatched eyes as he beheld her form.
 
“Norton!” Snapped the Dark Lord, whirling around, outraged. “This half breed
whore is now the property of our noble host, Dracula. Hold your filthy little
tongue, unless you want to feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort once again!”
 
Silas shrank away from his Lordship’s fury, but Dracula laughed, spraying blood
all over Gabrielle, who flinched, but did not look away, her expression
defiant. “I am not being offended, my Lord. This boy is merely giving in to his
baser instincts, this creature is most jolieafter all.” He said, smiling
unpleasantly at Gabrielle. Dracula turned to Silas, still smiling. “You may
take this petit fleurfor your own once I have finished with her, Monsieur
Norton. I am sure she will be ah... useful. We do not need to be devouring her
to enjoy her.” He finished, cruel amusement upon his deathly white face.
 
“My good Count is most generous.” Replied Silas, bowing low, unable to stop the
evil grin twisting his mouth.
 
The Dark Lord was still looking murderous, and looked as though he were going
to reprimand Silas again. But he was stopped from doing so by Dracula, who was
now surveying a slender girl who looked to be of about sixteen years with long
brown curly hair, her dark eyes huge with fear. “I am thinking, we shall start
with this one.”
 
At once, Avery and Travers strode toward the girl, wands raised. They tapped at
the shackles to release the girl and dragged her, one on each side of her
toward Dracula as her friends wept and screamed. “Silence!” screeched the Dark
Lord, and he raised his wand, presumably with the intention of casting a
silencing charm, but Dracula interrupted him, yet again.
 
“Do not trouble yourself my Lord” Dracula called, as Avery and Travers forced
the girl onto the racking table, shoving the other corpse roughly aside where
it fell upon the stone floor with a sickening thud, its remaining innards
spilling everywhere. “I am enjoying the screams, I find it most…stirring”
Dracula finished, baring his long fangs once again in that terrible smile of
his.
 
A spasm of rage flickered across the Dark Lord’s serpentine face before turning
back around to face Dracula. No one everinterrupted the Dark Lord, not ever,
but his Lordship needed Dracula’s help to crush France, so he needs must
appease this foul Vampire. “Quite,” the Dark Lord replied, with an even nastier
smile back to Dracula. “I daresay you will be able to fulfil your every whim
with this rabble.” He jerked his hairless head back in the direction of the
chained students. “They are Blood Traitors, Mudbloods and filth. This is their
fate, to be used and exterminated by superior beings.” The Dark Lord said,
inclining his head by a whole inch in Dracula’s direction.
 
Dracula laughed and strolled over to the racking table where his next victim
was struggling, fruitlessly. The girl was now naked and had been bound by the
wrists and the ankles by yet more shackles, sobbing, shaking and screaming with
terror. Astoria rather thought that the girl had soiled herself, judging by the
smell now permeating the cavernous dungeon. Indeed, she saw that Blaise and
Theodore had wrinkled their noses, looking revolted. “Are you knowing my Lord,
that a Vampire bite takes a day to take effect the one bitten?” The Dark Lord
gave a curt nod in answer. “Yes,” Dracula rasped deeply, running a long
fingernail down the girl’s nude body. “So, we shall have a lot of time to be
playing with her.” Dracula then leaned over, and bit off her right nipple.
 
The girl screamed in anguish, and the Dark Lord turned away, indifferent to her
suffering, and the Death Eaters parted at once to let him pass through. “Snape,
come with me.”He said, menacingly, as he strode through the archway to the
stairs. As Astoria turned to leave, she saw Zinnia plunge a rusty knife right
into the girl’s stomach, as her shrieks increased in pitch. When they had
gotten back upstairs into the main castle, the Dark Lord led them to the throne
room. There, he had tortured Snape with the Cruciatuscurse for close to an
hour, Snape’s yells of pain reverberating off the grim, stone walls. When his
Lordship had finally finished, he gazed pitilessly down at Snape. “You shall
not fail me again Severus, I expect you to be more faithful in future. I am
most displeased that the filthy Blood Traitor, Kingsley Shacklebolt,though
considerably weakened, has escaped me once again. It was most short sighted of
you to let that little fool, Norton, to pursue Shacklebolt alone. I would have
expected you to do the deed yourself, you lazy lackwit.”
 
“M-my Lord I c-crave your p-pardon. A-a thousand apologies my Lord, I crave
your-your forgiveness.” Snape gasped, fighting to get his knees, his greasy
black hair was bedraggled, covering much of his face, and what little skin
Astoria could see was starkly white.
 
The Dark Lord merely let out a cruel laugh, “Forgiveness, Severus? Lord
Voldemort does not forgive, he does not forget. The only way for you redeem
yourself in my eyes is by bringing me Shacklebolt, fool.” The Dark Lord then
suddenly and unexpectedly whirled around to face the watching Death Eaters,
screaming at the top of his voice, looking utterly insane. “And as for the rest
of you! You still have not found me Harry Potter!” Many of the Death Eaters
jumped, Astoria included, his Lordship’s screeches cutting through her like a
knife. “How hard can it be, to find one filthy little Half-Blood boy!? I have
most of Europe under my control but when I ask about Potter, oh no, you give me
nothing, NOTHING!” He strode up and down the throne room, breathing hard, until
he suddenly started screaming again “Get out! Get out all of you! Now!” As she
fled with the others, Astoria saw the Dark Lord gave Snape a kick as he was
getting up, causing him to howl in pain.
 
Unsurprisingly, the Dark Lord’s black rage had not abated by the evening. He
was not there to preside over them at dinner and everyone ate in silence, the
only sounds were the chinks of knives and forks, the occasional clearing of
throats, or else goblets being placed on the blood red tablecloth with light
thuds. Silas looked irritated and sullen at this dismal atmosphere as he
shovelled steak tartare into his mouth, looking resentfully up and down the
table. Dracula was not in attendance either. Undoubtedly, he and his wives
preferred to gorge themselves on the Dark Lord’s new ‘offerings.’ Astoria
merely picked at the many courses served up to her, she did not have much of an
appetite after what she had seen and done over the past couple of days. Her
mind was at war. You are a monster, how could you? How could you sit back and
allow these things to happen, how could you kill boys and girls who are
scarcely more than children? You have a child of your own!But another part of
her thought, I had no choice, the Dark Order are too powerful, they will kill
me and my child at the slightest sign of disloyalty or protest, you must think
of Leo at these times. Think of Leo.Astoria was relieved when the meal was
over, and all the Death Eaters rose, the sounds of chair legs scraping the
stone floor, low murmurings of chatter breaking out among them as the witches
and wizards drifted to opposite ends of the castle as usual.
 
Astoria did not attempt to engage in conversation with any of the other witches
as they all began to gossip with one another. She merely sat on a black velvet
sofa, gazing into the spitting fire, a goblet of wine clutched in her hand, the
images of mutilated girls and the burning Beauxbatons dining hall swirling
round her mind’s eye. Astoria usually found she could tolerate being in here
for a few hours, only to keep up appearances of course, but tonight she found
it galling. It irritated her when she heard Adelaide complaining loudly to
Drisella and some of her cousins about her blackened eyes, which incidentally
were almost healed now. Bellatrix’s harsh cackle grated on Astoria more than
usual, and Elizabeth was gleefully recounting the siege of Beauxbatons with
Hestia Carrow, their voices full of callous pleasure, filling her with
revulsion.
 
Astoria was just about to make her excuses and leave for her bedchamber, when
Narcissa suddenly sat down next to her on the sofa. “How are you Astoria? How
is your son?” She asked quietly. Narcissa looked worse than ever before, and
Astoria rather thought that she was beginning to resemble one of Dracula’s
wives. Astoria had not spoken to any of the Malfoys since the Death Eaters had
taken up residence in the castle. Indeed, she had barely seen them at all, as
she and Antonin would be seated at the top of the table and the Malfoy’s right
down the bottom to reinforce their low status. Narcissa rarely attended the
after dinner drinks either, presumably to dash upstairs to get her next fix of
opium.
 
“I cannot complain.” Astoria lied. “But to the best of my knowledge, Leonidas
is thriving, he is now in the care of Healer Rathburne, who shall be bringing
him over here toward the end of this lunar cycle. How are you faring?” She
asked, slightly concerned, in spite of herself.
 
“Oh, I am well.” Narcissa said, though she fiddled with one of her diamond
earrings and averted her eyes as she spoke. Then Narcissa quickly changed the
subject and asked in a low voice, “What happened at Beauxbatons, Astoria? I
tried to question Draco when he returned, but I could barely get a word out of
him.”
 
Astoria glanced around nervously before she answered, but the other witches did
not seem to be paying them any mind, chattering away in small groups. “It was-”
She whispered… but she could not seem to find the words to describe the horror
that had taken place at the school, it had been so very disturbing. Astoria let
out a deep sigh and shook her head. Narcissa seemed to understand and grasped
her wrist briefly, her skeletal hand burning hot. She must need another dose of
opium soon, Astoria thought, dully. “Pardons Narcissa, I am so very fatigued, I
think I shall retire for tonight.” Astoria said, suddenly.
 
“Oh,” Narcissa replied, looking a little upset. “Oh, well- I- I hope you have a
restful evening. Good eve to you… Tori” She replied with a little smile.
 
Astoria gave her a swift, sad smile in return and said, “And a good eve to you
too… Cissa.” And she swept from the chamber, cerise gown swirling.
 
Astoria walked slowly through the vast corridors, there was complete silence
apart from the clicking of her silken slippers on the rough stone floor, and
her gown softly trailing out behind her. She had thought that she knew the
castle corridors by now, but she seemed to have taken a wrong turn. Merlin,
where was she now?She sped up the pace of her walking, hoping to eventually
find a staircase, but there was nothing. As she strode through grim
passageways, she heard drunken yells and raucous laughter from a parlour to her
left, one of its doors wide open.
 
Astoria did not pay the noise any mind, and strode past the doors, until she
suddenly stopped dead at the sound of a drunken, sneering voice that she had no
trouble in recognising. “Ah, there she is, my gorgeouswife, why do you not come
in and join us my darling?” Astoria stood there for a moment, paralysed with
fear. Then she took a deep breath, and forced herself to turn around and walk
through the high doors. As she entered the room she saw Corban Yaxley,
Thorefinn Rowle, Silas Norton, Edward Travers, Theodore Nott, Walter Selwyn,
and Antonin himself slouching lazily on chintz covered armchairs and sofas in
the large parlour. “Come here sweetheart.” Antonin said in his most dangerously
soft tone, his cold blue eyes heavily bloodshot. Astoria could smell the scent
of gin coming off all of them from the other side of the room. They were all
smoking, clouds of vivid blue smoke coiling in the air above them, the whole
place stinking of burning tobacco. Antonin was flicking ash into a black marble
ashtray that was hovering by his elbow, and extinguished the cigarette as
Astoria obeyed and came toward him, his eyes never leaving her. When she
reached him, Antonin pulled her into his lap and kissed her on the neck,
smelling like the ashtray next to him. “Is she not so beautiful boys?” He said
to the surrounding wizards, laughing. “Am I not so lucky to get to fuck this
sweet little thing all night and all morn?” Yaxley laughed coarsely and Silas
let out a screech of malicious laughter, while the other wizards chuckled in
unison.
 
“She is most exquisite, Antonin.” Replied Silas, his reedy voice thick with
excitement. “I have always wondered what she was hiding beneath those gowns.”
He surveyed Astoria with a yearning lust, his mismatched eyes hungry as he
gazed at her cleavage. “I can scarcely wait to ravage that Delacour creature
and claim her for my own before Dracula kills her.” Silas finished, gleefully.
 
Antonin looked amused. “Silas, are you sure you even know what to do with a
woman? Have you ever claimed one?” As Antonin spoke, he had gotten to his feet,
taking Astoria with him, rubbing her shoulders gently.
 
“Of course, I have!” Silas replied, defiantly. Though his cheeks had had flamed
red and his disfigured face was contorted with fury. Indeed, when Theodore
laughed disbelievingly, Silas gave a snarl of rage and his hand flew towards
the pocket of his robes, as though he were about to draw his wand, but was
stopped from doing more as Antonin spoke again.  
 
Antonin chuckled softly. “No need for any of that, Norton. There is no shame in
admitting you have not yet, shall we say… crossed the barrier into manhood.
However, I think it fitting that you should see how things are done first.”
Antonin then shoved one of his large hands between Astoria’s breasts, partially
ripping the fabric of her gown in the process and groping at her roughly.
Astoria was filled with fear as she saw the gleeful faces of the wizards
surrounding her, their expressions lecherous. Astoria flinched and took a step
back, frightened, as Antonin began to make grabbing movements toward her, his
face full of lustful pleasure. “Oh, do not be so coy my darling.” He sneered,
turning to the other wizards. He then grasped her arm with iron fingers,
holding her firmly where she stood. “You should see the way this little nymph
moans and squeals when she is bouncing on my cock, she cannot get enough, can
you my dear?” Antonin asked, tauntingly. Travers’ hand was moving, almost
unconsciously towards his crotch and he began to touch himself there, his
tongue moistening his thin mouth as he looked at her. Rowle meanwhile was
trying to disguise how heavily he was breathing and was biting down hard on his
lower lip. Selwyn and Yaxley exchanged amused looks as though they knew what
was coming, and Theodore was gazing at her with the faintest half smile upon
his weak, cruel face. Antonin then pulled Astoria to him and gave her a sloppy
kiss, he was so drunk that he had difficulty in standing straight, swaying
slightly. When they broke apart he continued, “It would be most unjust for me
to keep her charms hidden from you all, so I think I will have to fuck her
right here in front of you all tonight.” At his words there was an upswing of
jeering and laughter from the surrounding wizards, and Yaxley slammed his
goblet down onto a small table, spilling half its contents in the process.
Astoria would have run if she had dared, but Antonin loved a chase and she was
not going to give him that gratification. She would let him have his way and
then hopefully he would let her go and would not start hitting her, as he
surely would if she disobeyed him. “Come my sweet, show my good comrades what a
beauty you are you-”
 
But Antonin was cut off by an angry voice cracking through the air like a whip.
“Stop!” It was Draco. Draco, her shining white knight, had come to attempt to
save her, though Astoria knew in in her heart that there was nothing he could
do. He was no match for the likes of Antonin. Antonin was taller, stronger, and
far more powerfully magical, as were the rest of his comrades, excepting
perhaps Silas and Theodore. Draco had come striding into the parlour and had
drawn his wand, shaking with fury. Yaxley and the others jerked their heads
around to stare as Draco made his way toward Antonin, watching in total
astonishment. Theodore looked amused at Draco’s interference, Travers, coldly
surprised, and Silas looked indecently excited, both his maimed and good eye
darting from Draco to Antonin as Draco moved further into the room. “She is
your wife, Dolohov! Have you no regard for her honour?” Draco asked angrily,
now a couple of feet away from Antonin, glaring at him.
 
Antonin had let go of Astoria. His cold blue eyes had widened, and he stared at
Draco for a second, seemingly unable to believe that hewas being told what to
do by the likes of Draco Malfoy. Antonin Nikolai Dolohov was a man who took
what he wanted, and everyone else be damned, and he was not used to anyone
commanding him other than his Master. Then, quick as a flash, Antonin shot out
a massive fist, seized the front of Draco’s robes and yanked Draco toward him
so that he was glowering down into his face, incandescent with rage. “How dare
you command me, idiot boy!” Antonin snarled. “You should be thankful that I am
not Cruciatingthe hell out of you, you foolish pup! But I have a job to do just
now” Antonin smiled down unpleasantly at Draco, still holding him in a vice
like grip. Astoria was scared for Draco, scared of what Antonin might do,
regardless of what he said. “Though you are right on one score,” he went on,
“She is mywife, she is my personal property for me to do as I please with, and
it pleases me to strip her bare and fuck her, right here and right now. So, you
are going to shut your mouth, sit over there and watch, or I might just have to
drag your opium loving bitch Mother in here as well. I know the Dark Lord will
not give a shit what we do with her, you and your pathetic family are nothing
now.” There was laughter from the other Death Eaters and Antonin gave Draco a
nasty leer, “Do you understand me?” When Draco did not answer, Antonin shook
him very hard and repeated, almost shouting now, “Do you understandme!?”
 
“Yes- yes, Dolohov.” Draco choked back, his voice constrained with suppressed
anger and emotion. Antonin then threw Draco from him with as much force as he
could muster, so that Draco stumbled and fell before the fireplace. Silas gave
a shrill cackle, leapt up from his seat and began kicking him, Draco rolling
away from the blows. Finally, Draco managed to stagger to his feet, and flung
himself into an armchair, his face flushed and furious.
 
Antonin gave a soft chuckle and turned back to Astoria. “Now, where were my
sweet? Ah yes-” He laid hands on her once again and tore the silk of her gown
even further, the rip coming down to her naval. Antonin jerked the fabric open
so that her breasts spilled free, and Selwyn whistled appreciatively. Astoria
flinched as Antonin laid his hand on her left breast, chortling. “See what did
I tell you!?” He said gleefully to the room at large. “Bigger than my whole
hand, and she is the tightest fit I have ever had!” There was more whooping and
laughter from the wizards as Antonin peeled the gown from Astoria’s body,
leaving her naked apart from her garter belt, lace knickers and stockings. All
the wizards were staring at her, their hungry eyes crawling over her flesh.
Astoria desperately wanted to cover herself, but she knew better than to
attempt such a foolish thing. She chanced a glance at Draco, he had now gone
white and he seemed unable to look away, such was his horror. Astoria tore her
eyes from him, surely, he would never want to be near her again now. She felt
dirty and used, he must view her in the same way now too, a whoreshe thought,
despairingly.
 
When Antonin made to take off the last of her garb, breathing hard, Yaxley said
“Leave that on if you do not mind Antonin, I like stockings, I find them most
stirring.” Antonin laughed and jerked down her knickers. Though there was a
roaring fire, Astoria shivered as she was fully exposed. Antonin waved his
wand, and he himself was now clad in breeches and a silk shirt, half the
buttons undone as sweat glistened on his heaving chest. He began to touch her
all over, squeezing at her breasts and backside, or else tracing a finger up
her spine. It took all of Astoria’s resolve not to shudder in disgust.
 
As Antonin groped at her, the surrounding wizards began discussing her as
though she were a piece of meat, and under her blind horror, Astoria felt a
stab of rage. Comments such as “Those legs are perfect… and that waist!” or
else, “She’s got no hair down there! Do you get her to shave it off?” Astoria
did her best to block them out, filling her head with thoughts of her son, she
just wanted this to be over. She was revolted to see that Silas had actually
drawn out his member, his hand rapidly pumping up and down his length, his
expression eager.
 
Antonin then hauled Astoria off her feet and onto an empty sofa, spreading her
legs with his knees to reveal her pink, womanly folds. “She has got a very
pretty cunt.” Announced Rowle, smiling slightly and grasping his crotch. “Very
nice indeed.”
 
Antonin laughed, “I have always said that it is like a little pink rose, it is
still so tight, even after birthing my son.” The wizards all roared with
laughter as Antonin began to rub her sensitive centre, his breathing rapid.
Astoria let out a little moan, determinedly staring at the high ceiling as she
saw all the wizards crowding around the sofa out of the corner of her eye.
 
“Oh, she likes it well enough!” cried Travers, from what seemed a very long way
away as the others chuckled.
 
Silas made to reach out to touch Astoria’s breast, still fondling himself, but
Antonin forestalled him. “Now, now Silas, your time will come in due course,
but this is my wife” He laughed. “You may look, but you may not touch.” Silas
retracted his hand hastily, and the laughter increased in pitch as he suddenly
gasped and spilled his seed all over the floor.
 
As Silas collapsed into a chair, his breathing ragged, Antonin pulled Astoria
closer toward him, held her legs open, and did something he had never done
before. He lowered his head between her legs and licked her right up the middle
of her folds. Astoria gasped, and her hips jolted involuntarily, she had never
before experienced a sensation like this. She could not help but moan as
Antonin’s tongue darted in and out of her, the jeering of the wizards even
louder than before. As Antonin began to suck on her centre and grabbed at one
of her breasts, her chest heaved and her back arched, unable to prevent the
powerful climax surging through her body, as her female juices squirted from
her. “Beautiful…” murmured Selwyn breathlessly after Astoria had ceased moaning
from the unwanted climax. Antonin then clambered on top of her, a few quick
thrusts were all that were needed to finish him, he groaned loudly as he
spurted inside her, and Astoria dully wondered whether this encounter would
result in another baby.
 
As Antonin straightened, his member still dripping with seed, Yaxley spoke.
“Well, that was most entertaining. I need to find my wife to cure me of a
rather urgent need.” He finished, smirking slightly. The other wizards laughed
and began to drift away back to their chairs, as casually as if they had just
watched a mildly interesting opera.
 
Antonin waved his wand again and Astoria was clad in a silken, midnight blue
bed robe, covering her nakedness, though she could still feel his seed
dampening the garment as it continued to dribble out of her. “I shall summon
that beastly little Elf to take you up to my chambers.” He said. “Jinky!”
Antonin shouted. The House Elf appeared at once by the sofa, her expression
indifferent as she surveyed the scene. “Take my wife upstairs, and see that she
is washed and ready for me when I return.” Jinky grasped Astoria’s hand with an
ice cold grip and helped her off the sofa to get her to her feet. “I shall be
seeing you later.” Antonin said, with a lascivious wink at Astoria. “Ensure you
are awake for me.” And Astoria allowed the House Elf to lead her toward the
doors of the parlour, thinking faintly that she would ask the Elf to provide
her with a very strong drink.
***** XX. - Trains and Turks *****
Chapter Summary
     More Death Eater action in this chapter, and we see some main
     characters from the original books making an appearance. Also a
     Cursed Child character.
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The next two weeks that Astoria spent at Dracula’s castle were incredibly
chaotic. The Dark Lord had gone abroad, nobody knew not where, and no one was
foolish enough to ask. Therefore, all the Death Eaters were cooped up in the
castle, as France was not yet in open war and they had been commanded to stay
hidden. With nothing else to do, many got drunk in the daytime, and as a
result, fights broke out. No one bothered to interfere, seeing as Dracula spent
much of the day asleep, and his nights down in the dungeons with his victims.
Thus, the combatants avoided Dracula’s wrath at having half of his castle
smashed to pieces by hastily clearing up the ruins before he emerged. Silas had
given William Jugson a nasty slash on his shoulder when the latter announced
that he wanted to bed the Delacour girl, and Dashiell Selwyn sported a bloody
broken nose after duelling Theodore Nott over some trifling matter. Silas,
incidentally, had finally gotten his heart’s desire. One afternoon, Valeria had
led a naked, sobbing and bleeding Gabrielle Delacour into the dining hall to
‘hand her over’ to the male Death Eaters, who had been drinking heavily all
morn. Silas had not even the decency to take her up to his chambers. When
presented with Gabrielle, he gave a shriek of delight and leapt upon the girl,
raping her right there in front of everyone, though nobody could have cared
less. The Zabini brothers laughed and Elizabeth had looked cold and indifferent
when Gabrielle screamed and cried as Silas pumped into her, making indecent
noises of pleasure. Astoria had been mortified to see Gabrielle’s appearance
scarcely a few days later. Her silver hair was bedraggled, there were various
cuts on her face, and her whole body was covered in bites, bruises and hex
marks as she ran naked through the corridors from Silas who was chasing her.
 
“You cannot evade me forever pretty!” Silas had screeched after Gabrielle, his
cold, reedy voice full of callous pleasure as he flew past Astoria, his maimed
face alight with malice. “Silas is coming to get you!” Silas vaulted over an
unconscious Rowle, who was sprawled upon the floor in a wine soaked sleep,
before finally cornering the girl further up the corridor. Astoria could almost
see herself being raped by Antonin for the first time as Silas tackled
Gabrielle to the ground as she screamed and begged. Astoria felt desperately
sorry for the girl, who could not have been more than fifteen years, but there
was nothing she could do for her. Even so, a nagging voice in the back of her
mind said, That was you. That is,you. Antonin meanwhile, scarcely let Astoria
out of his sight and would not leave her alone. When he was not drinking
himself into oblivion with his comrades, Antonin would insist on staying in bed
for half the day, bedding Astoria over and over again, drunkenly telling her
that he wanted another son. The encounters left her exhausted, and once Antonin
had given her the back of his hand after he was rendered incapable of
‘performing’ after too much wine, as if it were her fault. Astoria found
herself thinking, almost longingly, for the Dark Lord’s return, as he would
surely put an end to this mess at once. She prayed that he would come back
before her Leo arrived, who would most like be here any day now. This toxic,
drunken environment was no fit place for anyone to live in, let alone a baby.
 
Three days later however, as Astoria swept down the grim staircase, she beheld
a group of people talking quietly in the hall. Rathburne, Elizabeth and a
short, stout witch Astoria did not know, broke off their conversation and
looked up at her as she descended toward them. Leonidas and another, smaller
baby were dozing peacefully in a large pram and a small girl of about two with
silvery hair was capering around wildly as the witch struggled to keep hold of
her hand.
 
When Astoria reached them, Rathburne inclined his head toward her. “Madam
Dolohov” he said wheezily. “How are you faring this morn?”
 
“I am well,” Astoria lied, despair crashing over her as she looked at her
sleeping son. Too soon,she thought. Too soon, it is not fitting that he should
be here just now.
 
When Astoria looked inquiringly at the stout witch, Rathburne hastened to make
introductions. “This is Nurse Bernadette Clayden, Madame Dolohov, she will be
ah…assisting me with the infants while you reside here. Beckwith shall continue
to treat any of the wounded.” He shot a slightly nervous glance at Elizabeth
who was standing coolly by the pram and had not yet spoken, arms folded.
 
Nurse Clayden gave Astoria a strained smile and greeted her. Astoria was not
fooled; the Nurse was plainly terrified, and Astoria felt certain that she was
being forced to care for the babies against her will, just like so many other
Healers. Aside from that, this grim castle and its surroundings were enough to
frighten anyone, it had certainly frightened her. Astoria turned to Elizabeth
and opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth forestalled her. “My daughter,
Guinevere” she said coldly, pointing at the smaller baby in the pram. Astoria
rather thought that Elizabeth was jealous and angry about the fact that Astoria
had a son and she did not… the cold hearted bitch had complained about it
enough after all. Astoria found her attitude disgusting.
 
But Astoria did not care about Elizabeth’s pathetic resentments, she wanted to
hold her baby. “Give Leo to me, Rathburne” Astoria commanded the Healer.
Rathburne hastened to obey and at last, at last, she held her son in arms
again. Leonidas stirred slightly but did not wake, his head resting on her
shoulder and automatically grasping one of her fingers when she held one out
for him. At this, Elizabeth turned on her heel and strode away, but Astoria
ignored her and addressed Rathburne again. “I assume you know where they shall
all be housed?”
 
“Indeed, Madam Dolohov, I believe the elf, Jinky will be showing us upstairs
shortly.” Replied Rathburne with an odd expression on his face as he watched
Elizabeth’s retreating back up the hall, her grey silken robes swirling.
 
Before Astoria could say any more, the small girl who had continued to fidget
in the background throughout their conversation, burst out in a shrill voice,
“Mother! Me want Mother! Now!” She stamped her foot and thrust out her lip,
trying to disentangle herself from Nurse Clayden’s grasp. Astoria looked at the
child properly for the first time, and knew at once who she was. Delphini,
daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord himself. Other than her
silvery hair with blue tips, Delphini resembled Bellatrix to a tittle, there
was no mistaking those carved, haughty features so often found in the House of
Black.
 
“Mistress Delphini please!” Began Nurse Clayden, sounding scared and glancing
around the hall nervously. She was clearly afraid of reprimanding the girl.
 
Then suddenly a harsh, female voice rang out across the room, cutting through
the air like a sword. “Delphi!” Bellatrix cried as she came striding into the
hall. The girl wrenched herself free from Nurse Clayden and ran towards
Bellatrix, hugging her around the legs when she reached her. Astoria was
surprised at the look on Bellatrix’s face, she was wearing a broad smile that
she customarily reserved for the Dark Lord. Was that, affection? Bellatrix
swept over toward Astoria, Clayden and Rathburne, paying absolutely no mind to
the latter two. “Good morn Astoria.” She said, still smiling slightly, as
Delphini clutched at her skirts. Bellatrix glanced at Leo, who was laid across
Astoria’s arm now. “Yes, I see what Dolohov meant, the child favours you in
looks considerably.” It was very alarming to see how quickly Bellatrix’s smile
vanished when she looked up at Rathburne and Clayden. “You two!” She suddenly
snapped at them. “Why are these infants not up in their chambers?”
 
Nurse Clayden had gone white and began to shake with terror. “M-madam Lestrange
we…I…the elf…she-” Clayden spluttered.
 
But Bellatrix cut her off, a menacing look upon her gaunt face. “Be quiet!” and
Clayden fell silent at once. “Take my daughter and these babes upstairs
immediately… Jinky!” She called, and the House Elf appeared at once. “You
foolish little beast, why have you not done as you were commanded?” The elf did
not have a chance to respond, for Bellatrix had stooped and hit the creature
across the face.
 
Being undead, Jinky could feel no pain, but she still stumbled and fell at the
force of the blow. The elf righted herself and straightened her black toga “A
thousand apologies Madam Lestrange, Jinky is doing better in future.” Squeaked
the elf, unperturbed by Bellatrix’s attack.
 
“You shall.” Bellatrix snarled, and she watched with narrowed eyes as the Elf
beckoned to the Healers to the staircase. “You too, Delphi” she went on in a
slightly softened tone, as Astoria handed Leo over to Rathburne. “Go with your
servants.” Delphini took Nurse Clayden’s hand and followed Rathburne up the
stairs, who had conjured up a basket to carry Leo and Guinevere. Bellatrix
turned back to Astoria. “The Dark Lord will be returning this eve, I daresay we
shall be sent out to do his bidding soon, he has informed me that he has
something of great import to share with us. I can scarcely wait to be freed of
this foul castle and continue to serve him.” Her eyes gleamed and she gave a
nasty leer. “I needs must inform the others, Astoria. Good day to you.” And
with that, Bellatrix turned on her heel and strode across the hall through a
nearby set of double doors, her long black hair rippling behind her.
 
Bellatrix was as good as her word, for the Dark Lord did indeed return that
evening. As they were all waiting behind their seats at dinner time, he strode
into the dining hall, flanked by two wizards Astoria had never seen before, but
she had a shrewd idea of who they may be. One looked to be in his fifties,
whereas the other was younger, in his middling thirties or so. The younger
wizard was most definitely a Nott, or at least closely related to one, and may
have been considered handsome by many. He had the same cold, proud cheekbones
as Elizabeth, and a chiselled jaw, but this did not quite conceal his weak
face, making him resemble Theodore and Edgar Nott strikingly. The elder wizard
had to be some official from Turkey, for he was wearing bright red dress robes
with the crescent and star of the Turkish flag emblazoned in white thread above
his heart. He may even be the Minister, Astoria thought. His hair was greasy
and black as ink, his complexion was olive and swarthy, and he had a large
hooked nose, not unlike Snape’s. Astoria knew that Turkey had not even
attempted to fight the Dark Order when they had invaded. The Turkish Minister
was said to be a cruel and oppressive dictator who was infatuated with the Dark
Arts and had welcomed the Death Eaters in with open arms. Indeed, when the Dark
Lord and his two companions arrived at the head of the table, his Lordship
finally spoke. “For those who do not know, we have honoured guests here
tonight.” He announced in his cruel, clear voice. “Here, we have Minister Hakan
Yildriz of Turkey, who has been helping us to supress much of Eastern Europe.”
The Dark Lord gestured at the elder wizard, who bowed extravagantly to the
murmurs of greeting that echoed through the room. “And here, we have the noble
Lyle Nott, who has been overseeing the campaign alongside the Minister to
prevent forces from the Middle East and Russia from interferingwith our aims.”
A round of applause greeted Lyle Nott as he followed suit and bowed, unsmiling.
Dracula, who was in attendance tonight, smiled and bowed at the pair in turn,
opening his arms in a gesture of welcome.
 
There was an explosion of chatter as they were all seated, the Death Eaters
surveying the visitors with great interest. “Cousin!” Elizabeth Nott Yaxley
cried across the table as everyone was served raw scallops with hot peppers.
“How has your campaign fared thus far?”
 
Lyle Nott took a healthy swig of wine and gave a twisted smile, his cold grey
eyes exactly matching Elizabeth’s. “Things have gone well thus far, good
cousin. It is said that the Chinese are making plans to move against us, but I
daresay they shall be overcome by our forces by the time they are ready to
attack… Fools.” Lyle smirked, setting down his goblet.
 
“Slit eyed abominations!” Interrupted Dashiell Selwyn, a look of contempt upon
his hard face.
 
Antonin laughed at the offensive jape. “Who have you left in charge?” He asked
Lyle, one of his hands was resting on Astoria’s thigh and he grasped it
slightly.
 
“Dorian Prince.” Lyle replied, glancing briefly down the table at Snape, a
close relative of Dorian, but he seemed not to have heard. “Yes, Dorian is
young at twenty eight years to be in such a position, but he has excellent
battle instincts and knows how to keep everyone in line.”
 
“A worthy choice.” Antonin replied, inclining his head and toasting Lyle.
 
Lyle gave Antonin a sadistic leer in response and then turned his attention
upon Astoria. “Madam Dolohov, you are just as lovely as everyone says, a true
beauty.” Lyle’s eyes gave her the once over, lingering on her small waist and
big breasts in the tightly laced gown she was wearing. “I have not seen you
since you were a mere child, but I find you much changed, all to the better I
think.” He went on, still smiling unpleasantly.
 
“I think it is time that you put your eyes back in, Nott, she is mine after
all.” Antonin replied. His voice appeared jovial, but Astoria could hear the
unspoken menace beneath it. Antonin was clearly not amused with Lyle’s
attentions toward her, as opposed to Silas or one of his other Death Eater
comrades. Perhaps with Lyle’s moderately good looks, Antonin saw him as
competition.
 
Astoria had no memory of ever meeting Lyle Nott, she must have been so young
that she could not remember. She groped for an answer but was spared having to
address him, for Minister Yildriz had cut into their conversation. “This is
your wife?” He asked Antonin in a thick Turkish accent, smiling lecherously.
“Such a lovely specimen.” He said, ogling Astoria hungrily and just as quickly
directing his attention back to her husband. “Seeing as you have such an
affinity to beautiful witches, you may be pleased to know that my men shall be
bringing several, ah… gifts for our noble Dracula and your Death Eaters to use
at your leisure, and there is something elseI think you shall be most
interested in.” Yildriz finished, as a sinister shadow passed across his face.
 
“So kind of you Minister.” Antonin smirked, nodding in Yildriz’s direction as
dinner concluded.
 
The first of Minister Yildriz’s ‘gifts’ were revealed the next morn after they
had all had breakfast. The Dark Lord had led them all out to the back of the
castle to step outside in the smoky, gloomy air, Yildriz at his side. Nobody
uttered a word as they surveyed the grim scene and Astoria could feel the heat
from the lava off the mountains even from here. Then, Yildriz stepped forward
and pointed his wand in the air in front of him, conjuring up a powerful shield
charm, a sign Astoria found most ominous. Then, he directed his wand at the sky
and cried “Advocabit!”
 
Then, there was a rushing hot wind that felt as though it would melt the flesh
from Astoria’s very bones, making her shudder. At once, fifty or so wizards
appeared, clutching heavy iron chains which were restraining the largest and
most fearsome dragon Astoria had ever seen. The creature had cream, black and
orange scales covering its body. Two black spiked horns sat on the top of its
huge head, and more spikes lined its back, travelling all the way down to the
end of its sharp tail. The dragon gave an ear splitting roar that shook the
very mountains around them, and as the wizards struggled to keep it in hand,
the dragon spat out green flame rather than orange, its rows and rows of
pointed, razor sharp black fangs bared in rage. One of the most frightening
things about this dragon were its eyes, which had no pupils. They were vivid
green and blank, though its eyeballs rolled in all directions as the dragon
thrashed around, furious to escape the bonds that held it to the ground. “An
Amazonian Vipertooth” Declared the Dark Lord to the group at large, his voice
triumphant as the dragon flexed its wings threateningly, which were at least
two hundred feet across. “I thank you Minister for this gift. This creature
shall be most effective in the wars to come.” His Lordship seemed in an
unusually high mood this morning, and nothing that made the Dark Lord happy
could possiblybe good, Astoria thought, apprehensively. Many of the Death
Eaters gave impressed murmurs at the sight of the creature. Blaise was staring
awestruck and transfixed at the dragon, and Silas nudged Jugson in the arm,
whispering excitedly in his ear. Antonin had a horrible smile upon his face,
and Astoria could just picture him imagining the horrific destruction that the
dragon would inflict upon the people of France. Dracula meanwhile, was drawing,
almost unconsciously, toward the creature as he watched with rapt attention.
“Now!” The Dark lord cried, “You shall all hasten to the War Room at once!”
 
As the Death Eaters filed back into the castle toward the War Room, everyone
was talking excitedly, and Astoria heard Travers say from behind her, “What a
magnificent beast, I have never seen one of its like, Amazonian Vipertooth’s
are supposed to be really rare, I wonder how Yildriz managed to procure one? I
mean to say, I feel certain that this creature will prove useful to the Dark
Order’s aims in supressing the rest of Europe, as his Lordship so eloquently
outlined.” Bouts of malicious laughter followed Travers’ words as they were all
given permission to take their seats in the War Room.
 
Once in the War Room, the Dark Lord could not seem to keep still. He was pacing
up and down at the head of the table, his face alive with savage pleasure. The
horrid snake Nagini, who had rarely been present as she was so often sent out
to do his bidding was draped over his shoulders, hissing softly. Finally, he
spoke. “It – it has finally happened.” He announced to the silent room,
breathlessly. “Yildriz has informed me of the exact location of Potter at
last.” He inclined his hairless head toward the Turkish Minister, and Yildriz
looked smug and satisfied. “Which is more than any of youhave ever done!” the
Dark Lord snapped, suddenly sharp, as the whole room looked apprehensive and
jittery. “In any case,” The Dark Lord continued in a softer tone. “It is
reported that Potter is attempting to flee the country via train, now that he
knows of our presence here, the coward. The news of the siege of Beauxbatons
will have undoubtedly reached him by now, and the French Prophet is aware that
we are planning to conquer their pathetic country.” At this news, there was a
sudden upswing of jeering and yelling, Bellatrix let out a shriek of delight
and McNair banged his goblet down onto the table, while Avery shot a Dark Mark
up toward the ceiling where it swirled eerily, unable to reach the sky above.
“Potter will be easier to take out in the open, though undoubtedly there will
be aurors on the train as a precaution, that filthy Mudblood Minister has been
most vigilant now that he knows we are here. Your orders are as usual, you are
to kill them all, the more the better. Potter is said to be travelling with
three companions who are known to us …some more than others.” He finished, and
for some strange reason, his Lordships livid red eyes fell upon Antonin, and
Astoria saw his jaw clench for a fraction of a second. She pondered on this for
a moment, but then hastily brushed away the thought, knowing better than to ask
what this meant. Once again, after hours in the War Room, their plans were set,
the preparations had been made; they were to ambush Potter two days hence on a
trainline to the far West of France near Strasbourg.
 
Astoria was unsurprised to find that Minister Yildriz took the after dinner
congregations that evening to present the rest of his ‘gifts.’ There was a
score of half naked, exotic looking Turkish Muggle women, all with dazed,
unfocused expressions upon their faces as they lounged about on armchairs and
chaise longues in a large parlour. Astoria’s suspicions were confirmed when
Yildriz led them into a parlour and announced, “They are Imperioused. I find it
much easier this way, do what you will with them my friends.”
 
At once, Dracula rushed toward one of the women with honey coloured hair, not
unlike Astoria’s, and plunged his fangs straight into her throat. The woman did
not even scream, she merely made a horrible gurgling sound as the blood bubbled
from her mouth and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Yaxley meanwhile,
seized a dark haired woman with full breasts and deep olive skin, kissing her
aggressively. Elizabeth let out a shriek of fury and made to rake the woman
across the face with her nails as Lyle Nott laughed, but Yaxley shoved her
back. “Mind your place wife!” he snarled menacingly.
 
Enraged, Elizabeth then made to go after her cousin Lyle, who was still
laughing. “Cousin, why do you stand there? Stop this at once!” As she raised
her hand to strike him across the face, Lyle grabbed her wrist and twisted it
around. Elizabeth however, did not cry out in pain, she merely grimaced and
glared.
 
“I suggest that you obey your husband, Cousin, or it shall go ill for you.
Furthermore, I am your elder male relative and permitted to chastiseyou.”
Whispered Lyle menacingly, still grasping her tightly as Yaxley began to rape
the woman, who lay, indifferent, staring at the ceiling. “Boys!” Lyle called in
a louder tone. “I think it fitting that the witches retire for the night while
we have our fun.” There were murmurs of assent and Elizabeth wrenched herself
free of Lyle's grip, looking thunderous. As Astoria turned to leave, she saw
Adelaide looking jealous and angry as Josiah Zabini began to caress the flesh
of another of the women, the other wizards closing in around them. Antonin and
Rowle meanwhile, had already engaged in sex with a single woman, one at the
front and one in the back. WellAstoria thought, disgusted, at least this shall
keep my husband busy for most of the night.
 
The morning they were to capture Potter dawned dark and bleak as usual, even
though it could not have been more than ten hours since midnight. This time was
different though, the Dark Lord himself would be joining the campaign himself.
Indeed, he strode at the head of the group as they left Dracula’s Castle to
head past the magical perimeters in order to disapparate. Every single Death
Eater was in attendance, even Rookwood and Greyback, who had not yet fully
recovered from their injuries from the siege Beauxbatons, however the Dark Lord
had insisted that all were to be in attendance. The fifty wizards that Minister
Yildriz had also joined them, including Yildriz himself, his Lordship was
determined that Potter, and anyone willing to defend him to be completely
outnumbered.
 
When they apparated into the silent countryside, Astoria beheld a dismal little
train station. It was scarcely more than a platform and a small concrete
shelter. The place was completely deserted. The Dark Lord raised his wand and
swept it in an arc, casting an anti disapparition jinx over the area for miles.
Afterward, his Lordship gave a curt nod and the group of Death Eaters silently
crept toward the train tracks, splitting into groups as they had been
commanded. There were at least seventy of them in Astoria’s group. Antonin had
been put in charge once again, and they been commanded to wait at the top of
the tracks so as to be positioned at the front of the train when it was
intercepted. The remaining Death Eaters had gone with Minister Yildriz and his
men, who had been placed further up the tracks to prevent anyone from escaping.
The Dark Lord himself would wait in the wings until the fray broke apart. As
they reached the platform, Astoria was the first to take a step down toward the
tracks, but Antonin forestalled her. “No.” He said harshly, throwing an arm out
to stop her from going any further. Then he pointed at long wooden metal poles
which stood near the tracks, with what looked like metal wire linking them
together. “It is called electricity, a crude method used by those dirty Muggles
for transportation and lighting. It is easy to get rid of, but it can give a
nasty shock I’m told." Indeed, when she strained her ears, Astoria could hear a
faint, ominous buzzing from the tracks in the early morning air. Antonin
pointed his wand at the tracks, there was a brief flash of blue light and the
buzzing noise vanished at once, allowing them all to trudge across the metal
tracks carpeted in gravel, unscathed.
 
They all performed disillusionment charms to conceal themselves from watchful
aurors and train conductors, and waited. They had all been standing there for
just under an hour when they heard the distant rumble of a train from far away.
Astoria could hear the train but could not see it, the thundering of its wheels
on the tracks growing louder and louder as it let out a sound like a foghorn,
drowning out the excited sounds of Bellatrix’s panting. As the train drew
nearer, Astoria faintly thought that it looked queer, it was slimline and
metal, not at all like the steam trains she was used to seeing. Then, as the
sound of the train was screaming in her ears as it flew directly in front of
her, seventy voices cried, “Expulso!” The train was blasted over one hundred
feet into the air, its underside aflame as it twisted through the air to land
upon the ground with an ear splitting crash, metal debris flying everywhere. At
once, their disillusionment charms broke and many of the Death Eaters charged
at the smoking train, roaring with triumph, as screams and crying issued from
the inside of the wreckage.
 
The Dark Lord’s information had been accurate, for several wizards had burst
from the train, wands raised. Muggles scattered everywhere as the fight broke
out, and the Dark Lord suddenly appeared in the midst of the chaos. Astoria
recognised, fleetingly, two of the witches and wizards hurtling toward his
Lordship; her old professor Remus Lupin and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks. As
Astoria ducked to avoid a jet of orange light, she saw Antonin flying at Lupin.
“You!” he screamed, “You! I am going to kill you and your beast loving bitch
wife!” and they began to duel. Astoria was distracted from this as a disguised
Ministry witch advanced upon her, shooting a jet of scarlet fire in her
direction, which set the hem of her robes alight. Panicking, Astoria gave a
flick of her wand to quench the flames and wildly fired out killing curses
indiscriminately at the other witch, who only looked to be a few years older
than herself. She was reasonably skilful with good reflexes, but her magic
simply was not powerful enough. Astoria finished the other witch by blasting
out a snake from her wand, and it coiled sinuously around the other’s neck,
throttling her instantly and plunging its fangs into one of her eyeballs. As
she staggered backward, Astoria saw the Dark Lord duelling four at once,
including Tonks. The other Death Eaters were picking off Muggles, either
killing or incapacitating them, so Astoria followed suit, giving them quick
deaths rather the slow, horrific ones they would experience in Dracula’s
Dungeons if captured. As she struck down a man in his middling fifties, Astoria
saw Antonin direct a final curse at Lupin, and he yelled with triumph as the
werewolf was blasted into pieces, his blood spattering Antonin’s face, his
mangled remains slamming into the side of the ruined train to slide sickeningly
onto the ground. There were also non Ministry wizards on the train who had
simply been travelling and had attempted to help to subdue the Death Eaters,
but they were no match for any of them. These were just normal French wizards
who did not practice the Dark Arts and their spells were incapable of winning
duels. Astoria saw Snape kill a witch and wizard who looked to be a couple with
absurd ease as their children wept and screamed, their bloody faces mutilated
by nails and pieces of metal. Indeed, a warlock attempted to duel Adelaide
Yaxley, but she was able to strike him down in an instant, sending him flying
over the other side of the train where Astoria heard him land with a crunch
upon the floor as his bones shattered.
 
Then suddenly, a harsh cry rent the air and Astoria spun on the spot toward the
sound of the noise. “There! Over there my Lord! Potter! It is Potter!” Drisella
Selwyn shrieked, pointing further up the train tracks. And there they were.
Potter, Granger, Weasley and Longbottom were blasting themselves free from the
mid section from the mangled metal ruins of the train, wands raised. They were
all trying to turn on the spot to disapparate, but the Dark Lord’s anti
disapparition jinx kept them trapped where they stood.
 
The Dark Lord, who was still duelling Tonks, the only surviving combatant from
the initial duel, promptly blasted the witch into one of those electricity
poles. Astoria heard Tonks’ neck give an audible snap over the din, killing her
instantly. Her head rolled sickeningly onto her shoulder as she slumped upon
the ground, following her husband to the grave. Astoria was then knocked aside
by Silas racing past her. “POTTER!” He screeched, charging toward Potter and
his friends, wand raised.
 
The Dark Lord then whirled around and started running in the same direction as
Silas. “Stand aside! Stand aside Norton!” He shrieked, “I shall kill him!”
Potter and his companions were duelling Drisella, Dashiell, Travers and Avery
as the Dark Lord rushed forward in their direction, Bellatrix and more Death
Eaters hot on his heels, stunning spells flying everywhere. The Dark Lord
thrusted Silas roughly away from the group as he raised his wand, his scarlet,
cat like eyes wide and crazed, a terrible grin twisting his serpentine face.
Avery was then knocked off his feet by the Granger girl whom he had been in
combat with, yelling obscenities, and the Dark Lord in turn made a savage
movement with his wand so that all around him fell, including Astoria herself,
giving him full access to his prey. Potter directed a curse at the Dark Lord,
but he repelled it with an easy flick of his wand, the spell deflecting onto
the ruined train, causing a carriage to burst into flame, the windows
shattering. Astoria was quick enough to conjure up a shield charm to protect
herself from the lethal shards as glass sprayed everywhere. “Now, Potter!” the
Dark Lord shrieked over a high pitched, insane cackle, delighted that he was
finally about to get his heart’s desire. Potter’s companions all raised their
wands to strike back but it was no good. Black ropes covered in metal spikes
flew from the Dark Lord’s wand as he pointed it at the group, binding them
together as one, excepting Weasley, who hurtled at the Death Eaters in a last
ditch attempt to save his friends. However, Dashiell struck him dead with a
single killing curse, Weasley’s body landing on the gravel with a thud as half
of his teeth were smashed out from him landing face first on the metal tracks,
blood pooling out from underneath him.
 
At the sight of his corpse, Granger began to scream and struggled against her
bonds, the spikes ripping her flesh as she lay, bleeding and helpless upon the
ground, bound to her friends. “Ron! Oh Ronald! No! No! No! it cannot be!”
Several of the Death Eaters laughed cruelly, while Bellatrix gave a scream of
triumph and blasted the Dark Mark into the sky, causing the train to groan and
tumble completely off the tracks with a crash, such was the force of her spell.
 
“Filthy Mudblood!” Roared Yaxley at Granger’s anguished yells. “You are a
verminous little thief and a liar! Your Blood Traitor lover deserved what he
got!” Rodolphus Lestrange and his brother Rabastan laughed jeeringly as they
watched Granger dissolve in grief.
 
The Dark Lord then strode up to his victims and stared down at them, his
deathly white face alight with a devilish glee. “Harry Potter.” He hissed. “The
boy who lived. Or rather now, the boy who died.” Antonin and the Zabini
brothers roared with laughter at his Lordship’s words, their expressions full
of savage anticipation as all the other Death Eaters looked on, looking just as
eager. However, the Dark Lord silenced them all with a deadly look, now pacing
around the struggling group. “This will not be over quickly, by the time I am
finished with you, you shall be begging me to feed you to Nagini.” He crowed
gloatingly, pleasure etched in every note of his high, cold voice. Potter
remained defiant, still struggling furiously as his blood pooled upon the
ground, but Granger continued to openly sob. Longbottom had turned as pale as
milk, staring blankly into space, seemingly transfixed with terror. All
Potter’s companions were covered in cuts from the cruel bonds.
 
“You vile…you evil…he was my best fucking friend!” Potter yelled as he spat at
the Dark Lord’s feet and attempted to kick out at him. “You will not get away
with this, Riddle! Someday, somehow, someone is going to bring you down and you
will not even see it coming, you son of a whore!” Potter then turned his head
toward the Death Eaters and roared, “And that goes for the rest of you! You are
all going to pay for fucking up the world!” Adelaide sniggered disbelievingly,
Elizabeth gave Potter a cold smile full of promise of what was going to happen
to him and his friends, and Astoria could hear Alecto Carrow cackling madly in
the background.
 
Astoria however gave a gasp and actually took a step back from the scene,
unable to believe that anyonewould dare speak to the Dark Lord in this way,
expecting him to fly into a black rage and blast them all into smithereens
right then and there, but no. His Lordship merely looked cruelly amused. “You
think you are clever, you pathetic little boy.” He said softly, still pacing
around the captives, wand raised. “Try to make me kill you because of your
churlish insults? Ha! As I said, this will notbe over quickly. There again,
Lord Voldemort does not permit slights on his person so… Crucio!”Potter and his
companions screamed and writhed in a tangled heap of arms and legs upon the
floor as the curse hit them. All the Death Eaters were jeering and yelling as
the Dark Lord threw back his head toward the sky and let out his high cold
laugh, beside himself with jubilation.
 
Minister Yildriz and his guard then appeared, his face bloody and his red robes
soot stained, the other wizards surrounding him also in a similar state of
dishevelment. “The ones from the back are all dead my Lord” He panted. Yildriz
looked down at Potter and his friends and smiled unpleasantly. “Good fortune to
you on acquiring these filthy little criminals. The war is won at last, what
shall we do with them now?”
 
The Dark Lord’s lips curved into a horrible smile as he looked back at Yildriz.
“We shall take them to the castle. There they will feel the full strength of
Lord Voldemort’s wrath. They are to be heavily guarded to ensure that they do
not escape. Ensure that you round up any surviving filth for Count Dracula.”
 
“At once my Lord.” Replied Yildriz, a wicked grin twisting his face, as he and
his men advanced upon Potter and his friends.
Chapter End Notes
     I decided to age Gabrielle Delacour up a bit as I found it too
     disgusting for her to be 12/13 years old. Not that it isn't still
     horrible, but those young ages are going a bit too far for me.
     Also, I feel like Bellatrix would have genuinely loved Delphi in a
     twisted sort of way. As we all know though, she will always love Lord
     V above all others.
***** XXI. - Mercy *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter was hard to write, I almost cut some of the more
     unpleasant bits, but in the spirit of creative writing, I feel that
     original material is the best. This is a little longer than I would
     have preferred but it was too difficult to condense things down while
     keeping it interesting. (I usually like to keep them to about 5000
     words max but this is closer to 7000) Thanks again for the views/
     kudos's, I really appreciate it as I know this is something that
     hasn't really been covered in the HP fanfic community.
     Warning: graphic material
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Dark Lord finally had Potter. After all these years, after all the escapes
and bungled missions he was finally going to get what he craved above all else
in this world, to kill Harry Potter. The jubilation and excitement that whirled
around Astoria and the Death Eaters as they dragged Potter and his friends back
to Dracula’s Castle was so intense it was tangible. As they crossed the bridge
they made an almighty racket, many Death Eaters shooting jets of light into the
sky, laughing and whooping with triumph, occasionally blasting bits of the
jagged rocks everywhere. Silas was quivering with glee, Avery could not stop
leering, and the Dark Lord himself seemed to be in an almost euphoric like
state as they marched through the castle toward the dungeons. On the journey
back, Potter, Granger and Longbottom had to be stunned in order to subdue them,
for they had continued to struggle, and Granger almost succeeded in using
wandless magic against Dashiell Selwyn, which did nothing but to earn her a few
vicious bouts of the Cruciatus curse. When they reached the dungeons, Greyback,
along with some of Yildriz’s men dragged the unconscious group to the centre by
the racking table, now tying them up individually. There was a tremendous
amount of noise echoing off the stone walls when the Dark Lord suddenly
screeched over the tumult, “Rise and shine Potter! Rise and shine! Lord
Voldemort is waiting!” and he pointed his wand to revive Potter and his
friends, who began to stir feebly.
 
When Granger fully awoke and beheld the dungeon around her, she let out a
hysterical scream and began to weep again. Her screams increased in pitch when
Antonin laughed jeeringly and blew her a sarcastic kiss. “I have unfinished
business with you Mudblood!” He called to general amusement. “So do some of my
friends over here!” Dashiell Selwyn grabbed his crotch and Greyback leered, a
horrid promise of what was to come later.
 
Bellatrix likewise, was taunting Neville Longbottom. “Dolohov’s not the only
one!” She cackled. “I am going to take extra special care of you, Neville
Longbottom, even more so than your charming parents!” Astoria had never seen
Bellatrix look madder, her head was cocked to one side, she was covered in
grazes from the recent battle and her eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets
as she beheld her victim. Astoria expected Longbottom to break down, but his
face flooded with angry colour and he glared at Bellatrix defiantly. He has
more courage than I knew,Astoria thought sadly, though most like, by the time
the night was done he would be begging for the gift of mercy.
 
The insults directed at Longbottom and Granger were nothing to the abuse being
hurled at Potter however. The Death Eaters screamed obscenities in his face and
slapped him, jeering and laughing with triumph. Potter was hit countless times
with the Cruciatuscurse and Dashiell even went as far to conjure up rotting
fruits and vegetables to fly at him, yelling with delight as they exploded on
impact, giving off a hideous smell. Blaise punched Potter in the jaw and
Travers hawked up a gob of bloody green phlegm which he spat in his coal black
hair, while Rowle sent various hexes at him so that he was covered in bruises
and cuts. “That is enough!” Called the Dark Lord. “Enough, now.” And the noise
dropped considerably, though there were still murmurs of excited chatter. The
Dark Lord walked slowly over to Potter, wand raised. “Diffindo!”He screeched,
and a deep slash opened upon Potter’s forehead, blood pouring from the wound.
Nagini slithered around the captives, hissing softly at the scent of blood and
the prospect of a fresh meal. “Now you have one more cut to go with the other,
Potter.” The Dark Lord sneered. “Not that you shall live long enough to see it
heal.” He finished, a twisted grin warping his inhuman features as more raucous
laughter rang through the dungeons.
 
Potter was gasping and shaking, blood was running down into his eyes as he
attempted to glare up into the Dark Lord’s delighted face. “Fuck you Riddle.”
He slurred, his voice constricted with rage and agony, “I…Never…Will
not…You...” He choked, barely getting his words out.
 
At this, the Dark Lord dealt him another bloody slash with his wand. “Accept it
Potter, accept that I am your vanquisher and I may just make your death a quick
one.” Several of the Death Eaters chuckled softly, but Potter began to struggle
worse than ever, kicking and shouting.  The Dark Lord hissed softly. “I see, so
you have chosen the hard way.” Then with an abrupt change in his voice, he
barked “Death Eaters! Do what you will with Potter’s little friends, let him
watch while we slowly exterminate them from the face of the Earth!”
 
At once Antonin, his comrades and some of Yildriz’s men advanced upon the
trembling form of Granger with roars of delight, the Dark Lord’s insane laugher
ringing in the background. Jugson reached her first and began tearing off her
garb, but Antonin shoved him away roughly, “Stand aside” he growled, “I have a
score to settle with this little Mudblood.” He backhanded Granger four times so
that her lip split, and blood poured out of her nose. As she sat there, dazed,
he lifted her up by the hair and snarled in her ear “I am going to pay you back
for that little trick you pulled on me at the Ministry all those years ago.
Antonin Dolohov does not forget a thing you little whore, remember that.” He
forced her down onto her hands and knees, yanked down her Muggle attire and
shoved aside his robes to push himself up inside her. Judging by Granger’s
scream of pain, he had taken her through her rear entrance. Astoria knew how
painful that was.
 
Silas, who had also drawn out his member, was waggling it tauntingly in
Granger's face. “It is big isn’t it?” He sneered, attempting to shove it into
her crying mouth. “Does the little Mudblood tart fancy a taste of Silas?” Many
of the Death Eaters laughed as he rammed his length down her throat, panting
with excitement. However, the laughter was quelled slightly as Silas gave a
screech of pain, pulled back, and punched Granger full in the face, grasping
his member. “Teeth!” He screamed. “This filthy little Mudblood used her foul
teeth on me!” Travers gave a snort of laughter, but Silas strode toward the
racking table and seized a rusty knife, Antonin still plunging in and out of
the girl all the while. With a wave of his wand, Silas caused the knife to glow
red hot and began to advance upon Granger, a demonic glint in his mismatched
eyes. He crouched down in front of her and began brandishing the knife in her
face, evidently deciding where he should strike first. Then his face split into
an awful smile. “Do you like my eye, Mudblood?” he asked in his cold, reedy
voice, gesturing at his own disfigured face. Granger did not answer, tears
spilled from her brown eyes as her body jerked from Antonin’s thrusting and she
was biting her lip to keep herself from screaming in earnest. “No? Well, I
think I shall give you one to match all the same!” He screeched. Quick as a
flash, Silas grabbed her hair to steady her face, and dug the knife deep into
the top of her left eyebrow. Granger let out an unearthly scream as Silas drew
the blade across her eyelid and brought it further down to the top of her
cheekbone, almost mirroring his own scar. Astoria could see Granger’s flesh
smoking, and the smell brought the bile rushing up to the back of her throat,
but she willed herself to look cold and composed. Silas cackled madly as he
beheld his grisly work, and just for good measure he stuck the point of the
knife into Granger’s eyeball, ripping it out of its socket. At this, Granger
collapsed onto her elbows, half conscious and whimpering. “I don’t think so!”
cried Silas shrilly, “Rennervate!”
 
As Granger was brought back to her senses with a sob, Antonin began to climax
noisily inside her before finally pulling away, his member still dripping with
seed. He got to his feet with a sigh of contentment and asked casually, “So,
who wants to go next?”
 
Before anyone could answer, there was a shout. Potter had found his voice
again. “No! No, please stop it!” There were tears streaming from his green eyes
as he beheld his defiled, mutilated friend, his defiance vanishing at once.
“Leave her alone, I’ll do whatever you want just please, no more!” Astoria
glanced over at Longbottom and saw that he had fainted, though no one else
seemed to have noticed.
 
At his words the Death Eaters laughed, and Josiah strolled over to where Potter
was slumped on the stone floor, and with all the force he could muster, he
stamped down hard on Potter’s ankle which gave a sickening crunch. “What could
we possibly want from you? Do you take us for sodomites!?” He roared over
Potters howls of pain, grinding his foot down harder onto the broken bones.
“The Dark Lord gave you the chance to save your precious slut, you filthy Half-
Blood!” The Dark Lord himself casually flicked his wand at Potter, giving him
another dose of the Cruciatuscurse and his screams increased in pitch.
 
Meanwhile, Rabastan and his brother Rodolphus had taken control of Granger, the
former in her mouth and the latter behind, just what Antonin and Silas had
attempted to do so before. Granger did not offer up any resistance, Silas’s
mutilation had clearly broken her. However, her meekness did not seem to amuse
Rodolphus, who said angrily, “She is too quiet, I may as well fuck a corpse!
Norton, bring me that knife!” Silas came hurrying over gleefully with the red
hot knife, handing it to Rodolphus, who proceeded to turn the blade on its
side, branding it hard onto Granger’s right buttock. This wrenched Granger back
into reality, and she started to scream again as her flesh bubbled and seared
under the flat of the blade. Rodolphus smirked and began to grind into Granger,
grunting and puffing in unison with his brother who worked himself in and out
of her mouth.
 
Bellatrix, who had been watching the perverted display with an intense avid
hunger, seemed to snap out of her reverie, and her crazed eyes fell upon the
unconscious Neville Longbottom. “Ahh, such a shame that our little friend is
missing out on all the fun!” She cried over the sounds of revelry and rape,
striding towards Longbottom, wand raised. “I think it is time he joined us!...
Crucio!” Longbottom awoke with a scream. Bellatrix’s spell was so powerful that
he was lifted off the ground and writhed in mid air. When she finally released
the curse after a good five minutes, Longbottom fell to the ground with a
crash, sobbing. Astoria saw that he had wet himself, something that was not
missed by Hestia Carrow, who laughed cruelly. Bellatrix then let off several
loud bangs with her wand, directing them at Longbottom as he shrieked in pain.
“Some more?” She leered, “Or do you finally understand how foolish you were to
challenge the Dark Lord, our one true ruler? You scummy little Blood Traitor.”
 
Longbottom’s breathing was ragged, and he was struggling to his knees, trying
to speak. “Harry was right…one – one day, you are all going to pay.” He choked.
 
Bellatrix roared with laughter and hit Longbottom with the Cruciatuscurse
again, provoking more screams. “Pay? Pay,Longbottom?” I suggest you take a look
at that dirty little Mudblood whore over there, she is the one who is payingfor
her crimes just now.” She jerked her head in the direction of Granger who was
now being urinated on by Antonin, Theodore, Silas and several others as they
chortled mockingly. “If you love Mudbloods so much then why don’t you…” Her
voice trailed away as though she were contemplating something, then a
singularly mirthless smile twisted her gaunt face. “Dracula!” She called,
“Dracula, where are you!? I need you at once!”
 
Dracula appeared in the dungeon archway at once, one of his wives, Natalia, at
his side as they both came gliding over to Bellatrix. “Ah, Madame Lestrange,
this is looking most entertaining.” He announced, bowing low to the Dark Lord
and Bellatrix in turn. “How may I be of service good lady?”
 
Bellatrix smiled unpleasantly, “I command you to procure some flesh from this
soiled Mudblood, I refuse to touch her.” She said, gesturing at Granger. “And
then, you are to feed it to this chubby little Blood Traitor! I daresay he
shall be in need of sustenance. Cook it up crisp and make him eat it, every
bite!” Her expression became more devilish when she finished, “And bite him
too, if that is your pleasure.”
 
“No! No! Not Neville, NO!” Potter bawled as Natalia advanced on Longbottom, her
fangs bared and her long fingernails outstretched. She knelt behind Longbottom
and ran her fingers through his hair, sniffing his neck and sticking her grey
tongue in his ear, all the while staring malevolently at Potter who yelled,
“NO! He is no part of this! Take me instead, he has done nothing! Please!”
 
“Silence.” Sneered Bellatrix, as Dracula drew toward Granger, who had been
dragged to her feet and shoved up against the grimy wall, and was now being
raped by Lyle Nott from behind, who seemed to be half strangling her as he took
his pleasure. Lyle released her reluctantly and Granger crumpled to the floor.
Dracula knelt over the girl, bent his head over her form and ripped some flesh
from her buttocks, the chunk of bloody skin and meat dangling from his mouth as
he grinned maliciously. Granger did not even scream now, she merely gave a
muffled moan of pain as the flesh parted from her body, her one remaining eye
rolling back into her skull as she shifted onto her back, squirming weakly.
Dracula stood, threw the flesh into the fire and just as quickly drew it out
again, his pale dead skin unharmed from the flames. The smell reminded Astoria
horribly of roast pork and she wondered if she would ever be able to stomach
the dish again after this. “Yes! Yes!” Shrieked Bellatrix, jumping up and down
on the spot like a demon as Dracula approached Neville. “Taste her dirty blood
Longbottom!”
 
Dracula held out the sizzling human meat toward Longbottom who was struggling
furiously, while Natalia held his head still with her long fingered hands.
Longbottom vomited everywhere as the meat touched his lips and Astoria saw
Elizabeth smirking as Dracula shoved it into his mouth. “Mudblood’s do not
taste so good after all do they?” She asked tauntingly, her voice full of
callous pleasure at the sight of Longbottom being force fed the flesh of one of
his best friends, Bellatrix cackling madly all the while.
 
Then without warning, Natalia yanked back Longbottom’s head and plunged her
fangs into his neck as Potter let out a yell of rage and anguish. Longbottom
did not even have time to cry out. His eyes widened, and he drew in a terrible,
whistling breath as Natalia’s fangs punctured his airway. Dracula laughed. “My
wife, she is always being so eager.” He glanced in the direction of the Dark
Lord and grinned. “All these wonderful gifts you have been bringing us have
given her more of a taste for boys.” At his words, Natalia drew her fangs away
from Longbottom’s neck and also smiled, her fangs were covered in dark blood as
it began to dribble down her chin to drip onto her gown.
 
Surely this must be over soon, Astoria thought, they must have been down here
for hours now. Potter’s body was a mutilated mess, Granger was whimpering as
Greyback bit her all over, tearing off her left breast in the process,
obscenely licking the bloody wound on her chest as she wept. Longbottom was now
twitching and bleeding upon the floor, his skin becoming paler as the first
stages of the Vampire transformation began to take effect. Then at last, the
Dark Lord’s voice rang out cold and clear so that the Death Eaters ceased in
their rape and torture. “Now!” He called, “Time to make an end!” His Lordship
began to walk toward Potter and raised his wand slowly, his chest rising and
falling rapidly, not quite keeping the tremble out of his deathly white hand.
Potter looked blearily up at the Dark Lord, and to Astoria’s mingled shock and
horror, he gave him a mocking smile through his severely cut and bleeding face.
Undoubtedly, Potter was about to utter some contemptuous last words but- “Avada
Kedavra!” The curse hit Potter directly in chest and he fell with a slight thud
on the stone floor. There was silence for a moment, then came the jeering, the
laughter, the gasps of disbelief and the stamping of feet. Potter was dead,
dead at last; the Dark Lord’s dearest wish had finally been fulfilled. Astoria
did not know what to feel other than pity and revulsion as she beheld Potter’s
bloody remains upon the floor, even though she could not ever recall speaking
to the boy. Astoria knew that he despised the Pure Blood aristocracy elite that
she came from and all it stood for, and being a Slytherin she had naturally
avoided him, but still, he did not deserve to die, especially not in this way.
Astoria was brought back to her senses by the Dark Lord’s high cold voice
cutting through the din again. “Dracula!” He called. “You may do as you please
with the Mudblood now that my Death Eaters have finished with her.” His
Lordship waved a white hand carelessly toward the battered Granger girl who was
now attempting to crawl away, the blood between her thighs already starting to
dry. Dracula gave a nasty grin and advanced upon Granger who began to cry
feebly, mumbling words Astoria could not hear. “And you shall share the Blood
Traitor with Nagini, but Potter’s body is mine.” His Lordship continued, “There
is- a…purpose I require it for, is that understood?” Dracula nodded and dragged
Potter’s corpse to a long, rusty metal drawer set into the wall before slamming
it shut with a clang. Astoria turned away from the scene with revulsion,
wanting nothing more than to forget.
 
No sooner had Astoria and the Death Eaters taken their leave of the dungeons,
there was a riotous feast to celebrate Potter’s death. No one had bothered to
change into dinner wear, they were all still clad in their Death Eater robes
and bore all the marks from the train ambush. Antonin still had the blood of
the werewolf, Lupin, spattered across his face, Avery seemed indifferent to a
nasty gash across his cheek, while the Selwyn twins were covered in hex marks
and cuts. The drink was flowing thick and fast and Astoria could barely hear
the conversations around her through all the raised voices and shrieks of
laughter. She forced herself to smile and act as though she were happy whenever
she was addressed, all the while pondering the death of Potter and his friends.
To be sure the Granger girl had it the worst, the best that she could hope for
was that Dracula would finish her off quickly. It did not quite seem real,
these people who once walked the same corridors and took the same classes as
her suffering such a fate. The Dark Lord then raised his goblet and screeched,
“What did I tell you Death Eaters!? Harry Potter is dead! He is DEAD! I have
killed him at last! The Order of the Phoenix is finished, and now there is
nothing on Earth to stop us in our pursuit of the New World!” There was an ear
splitting roar of assent as all the Death Eaters raised their goblets in turn
and drank deeply.
 
The night sank into still more depravity when Astoria saw Bellatrix lean in
toward Silas and whisper something in his ear. Silas promptly gave a screech of
delight and rushed off to return a short time later with a stark naked
Gabrielle, who was miraculously, still alive. Astoria was revolted to see that
Silas appeared to have donned Potter's cracked and grimy glasses, cackling
madly. He was also accompanied by Jinky the House Elf who was carrying a silver
covered platter. The sight filled Astoria with disquiet. Indeed, Silas seized
the platter from the House Elf and shouted at Gabrielle in his shrill voice,
“On your knees slave!” The girl resisted, but Silas drew his wand and forced
her downwards with a spell as tears leaked from her brilliant blue eyes. Then,
he drew the lid off the platter and Astoria had to take a deep sip of wine to
mask her horror and disgust. There, on the silver tray, was Potter’s
decapitated head. His green eyes were blank and unseeing, blood congealed from
his neck, and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth and was beginning to turn
blue. “Kiss it.” Commanded Silas, trembling with savage triumph, “Come now,
kiss your saviour, the chosen one.” He sneered. Gabrielle began to scream as
Silas capered around her like an imp, jerking the tray back and forth in her
face, shrieking with glee. The Dark Lord began to laugh, sending chills up
Astoria’s spine, his high, cold, humourless tone penetrating her very bones as
many others began to join in…how could anyonefind this amusing?
 
Astoria was also very uncomfortable about the fact that Antonin would not stop
fondling and kissing her at the dinner table. “I cannot wait to get you in bed
and fuck you my love.” He whispered, planting kisses up her neck and nuzzling
there, breathing hard, smelling of drink and dried blood. However, they had not
been dismissed by the Dark Lord, so they needs must stay put, thus Antonin took
his pleasure as best as he could while he waited. Undoubtedly all the rape and
torture he had participated in before had aroused him more than usual, Astoria
thought, disgusted. Antonin’s salacious behaviour was not missed by Dracula,
and she was filled with revulsion as she felt his eyes crawling over her as she
was groped by her husband, sure that he was becoming aroused by the spectacle.
Yaxley likewise was all over Elizabeth, with many male Death Eaters shooting
them covert and envious looks, no doubt itching to get their hands on Minister
Yildriz’s Muggle sex slaves.
 
The drinking had really started to get out of hand when Lyle Nott began to
quarrel with McNair and the former launched himself across the table to get at
McNair, goblets and platters smashing everywhere. “That will do!” Screeched the
Dark Lord over the cacophony, and his tone was so threatening that all fell
silent at once. Lyle stopped trying to grab McNair and slumped back down into
his seat, looking fearful. “You have my permission to retire for the evening,
and I expect you all to be assembled in the War Room six hours after break of
day. Now that Potter is dead, I think it fitting that we move on to the second
phase of my plan for France.” As everyone rose when the Dark Lord swept from
the room there was much excited chatter among the Death Eaters, everyone eager
at the prospect of phase two.
 
Astoria got a shock the next morn when she was led into the War Room by
Antonin. The long table had been elongated to accommodate what looked to be
around forty Vampires who were standing behind their chairs. They all bore a
resemblance to Dracula; their skin was deathly white, and they were skeletally
thin with dark shadows around their eyes. The Vampires were mainly male, but
there were about a dozen females among them, and all ranged from young to old.
When everyone was assembled, the Dark Lord addressed them all. “May I present
some new comrades who have now joined our ranks. We have Count Dracula to thank
for bringing them to the cause.” The Dark Lord nodded curtly at Dracula who was
seated to his left as the Vampires in turn nodded solemnly in his direction.
“They shall be aiding us in the second phase of my plan for France, which is to
finally destroy that disgusting Mudblood Minister who has slighted me and the
Dark Order countless times and opened the doors of France to his filthy
thieving Mudblood allies, and I mean to make him answer for his actions. Not
only that, but once he is disposed of, France will fall into my hands with no
one to lead them.” There were murmurs of comprehension and excitement following
his words. After several hours, the meeting concluded, and the Dark Lord
finished in his high, cold voice “…One week hence at Fontainebleau. One week.”
 
As some of the Death Eaters drifted into a parlour, Astoria felt Antonin’s
hands grasp her by the hips, and he jerked her onto his lap as he collapsed
into an armchair, talking animatedly with Yaxley as they discussed the Mudblood
Minister and the siege that was to come. Astoria barely heard them, she was
pondering all that the Dark Lord had planned for the Mudblood Minister. If he
was indeed currently hiding out in the Palace of Fontainebleau as the Dark Lord
seemed to think, even with all his Ministry Protection, he did not stand a
chance. Now, with the additional forces from Turkey, Dracula’s fellow Vampires,
and Fenrir Greyback’s pack whom he had now recalled from all over Europe, they
would now be close to four hundred strong, and his Lordship had given them free
reign to do whatever they wished with their victims. Astoria shuddered inwardly
at some of the things that had been discussed in the War Room, it had been more
grisly and disturbing than anything she had ever heard in her life. His
Lordship wanted to humiliate and debase the Minister for daring to speak out
against him, and Astoria felt a twinge of pity for Minister Clement and, if
they were with him, his family. She dreaded what fresh horrors she would have
to witness if the siege were to be a success, the anguished screams of Potter
and his friends still rang in her ears whenever she cast her mind back to last
night and she had barely slept due to nightmares. Well, she thought wearily,
you had best get used to it, this is the way things are going to be now.
 
A week later at two hours to midnight, all the Death Eaters, Vampires and
Werewolves were gathered in the throne room. There was total silence as they
stared at the throne made from human skulls and bones, waiting for the Dark
Lord to appear. Astoria glanced around covertly and saw that most looked
excited, others apprehensive as the silence spiralled. She was also acutely
aware of Silas fidgeting. He was standing to the other side of Antonin,
twirling his wand in his hands and running his fingers through his hair, his
chest rising and falling rapidly. Then there was a scraping noise, and as one,
everyone’s eyes jerked upwards, all gazing intently at the stone wall to the
right of the grisly throne. The wall was sliding open to reveal the Dark Lord
standing there, still as a statue, the hood of his black robes drawn up over
his head so that his pale white skin shone out of the dark fabric. He stepped
out of the passageway and his scarlet, catlike eyes roved slowly over the room.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet but clear, and Astoria could hear the
anticipation beneath it. “You all know what to do. Anyone who fails me this
night will pay the ultimate price. Now, let us go.” There were innumerable
popping sounds as all the Death Eaters disapparated, some grasping the arms of
their newfound Vampire comrades who obviously could not apparate of their own
accord. A second later, they arrived on a deserted country lane lined by trees
and hedges, the night was as black as pitch and Astoria saw two fancy placards
on opposite sides of the road. Through the gloom, she could just about make out
the words ‘Beinvenue a Fontainebleau’on their surfaces. Then, Astoria felt that
horribly familiar chill coming over her, she looked over her shoulder and sure
enough, a huge hoard of Dementors were gliding toward them, they were so black
that they seemed to stand out against the night sky. She shivered and felt cold
sweat running down her face beneath her mask, surreptitiously rubbing the back
of her neck and shifting uncomfortably on the spot. As the Dementors swirled
and twisted above them, the Dark Lord addressed Dracula. “You shall accompany
the Dementors to supress any Ministry protection as we discussed. Any magical
perimeters will not be effective on your kind, so you may enter freely. Bite as
many as you have a care for, the more the better.” His Lordship's high cold
voice echoed strangely in the night air. Dracula bowed low and as one, he and
his minions rose up into the air and glided toward the town alongside the
Dementors, their cloaks streaming out behind them. The Dark Lord then wheeled
around and began to stride up the road toward the town, Astoria and the Death
Eaters following suit.
 
Around ten minutes later they arrived in the town of Fontainebleau. Like the
road, all was dark and silent. Fontainebleau was small, most of the houses
seemed to be made from pale stone and were lined up next to one another, and
apart from the main boulevard, the streets were narrow and branched off in
complicated directions. The Dark Lord stopped by some queer lights that were
intermittently changing from green, to amber, to red, his back to them all. He
waved his wand in a figure of eight movement and acrid grey smoke burst from it
which began to seep everywhere, travelling under the doors of houses and the
Muggle shops. Astoria could faintly hear the doorways being sealed, ensuring
that no one could break out and put up a fight. She recalled how the Dark Lord
had gleefully told them that the spell was likely to kill children first, such
was its toxicity and power. How many parents would wake up to find their
lifeless children in bed, only to find themselves imprisoned in their own
homes, unable to escape while attempting to find aid? Astoria shuddered and
walked through the cobbled main street, imitating her fellow Death Eaters as
they extinguished the street lights, plunging the town into further darkness.
They walked until they came to a wide avenue lined by trees, which grew sparser
in numbers until they were looking up at black iron gates, at least fifty feet
tall, their grand gold carvings glinting faintly in the dim moonlight. As one,
the Death Eaters raised their wands and all but whispered, “Patentibus” and the
gates silently swung open. The gravel crunched beneath their many feet as they
made their way toward one of the largest and grandest palaces Astoria had ever
seen. It seemed to sprawl on forever and towered above the gardens in the
courtyard, its many turrets and chimneys piercing the night sky. The palace was
Muggle built, Astoria knew, and she was shocked and surprised that they were
capable of building such grand structures. Her brief awe at the majesty of the
palace was immediately eclipsed when they came across the first casualty of the
impending siege. A wizard had been impaled upon a garden statue, his throat had
been completely ripped out and what looked like his heart was congealing on the
gravel in a pool of blood. The rivers of blood running down the statue looked
black as they oozed down the pale stone, his eyes stared unseeing toward the
night sky, and his wand was lying uselessly a few feet away upon the ground.
The Dark Lord ignored the body and continued his purposeful stride across the
courtyard, though Astoria heard someone, Hestia perhaps, chuckle softly at the
sight of the dead wizard. Astoria was feeling cold again and automatically
jerked her head up toward the sky. Sure enough, the Dementors and Vampires were
gliding over and around the palace, encircling it in darkness and death.  
 
At last, they arrived at the palace which loomed over them imperiously, as
though daring them to attack. There was a large set of stone steps which led up
to the main doors of the palace in the shape of a horseshoe. Silently, the
Death Eaters split and made their way up either side of the many steps, though
no one dared to reach the top before his Lordship, who had made his way up the
left side. When he reached the top of the steps, the Dark Lord threw back his
hood as he stood in front of the double oaken doors, and stared at them for a
dozen heartbeats or so. The tension in the air was so intense that it could
have been cut with a knife, every eye was upon the back of Dark Lord’s chalk
white, hairless head. Then slowly, very slowly, the Dark Lord raised his wand
and pointed it straight at the doors, which were promptly blasted open. At
once, Astoria went surging into the palace with the other Death Eaters, some
ran up the left of the long entrance hall, others to the right. The smell of
burned wood hung in the air as the smouldering, groaning doors hung off their
hinges. Many Death Eaters were shouting, wands raised as various groups split
and charged down the numerous corridors which branched off the hall. The Dark
Lord was screaming out instructions to them all over the explosion of sound,
though his main refrain was “The Minister! Find me that Mudblood Minister!”
 
Astoria headed for the East side of the palace, and as her rapid footsteps
echoed on the marble, she fleetingly thought that this was one of the most
sumptuous palaces she had ever set foot in. Even in the dim candlelight, she
could tell that there was not one surface that was not richly decorated in
velvet, gold or some other grand material. Portraits, tapestries and statues
covered the walls and the ceilings were high and cavernous. Astoria carried on
running and was followed by Drisella, Elizabeth, Adelaide and the Zabini
brothers as they came skidding into another hallway with a grand marble
staircase set to the right. “The stairs!” Cried Josiah, “His Lordship says we
are to bring any residents we find up there! Do notslay any of the family
unless it is completely necessary, but you may do away with any aurors.”
 
They dashed up at least one hundred stairs, and everyone was breathing hard
when they reached a large landing that branched out in four different
directions. Josiah and Blaise sped down one, Drisella and Elizabeth down
another, while Astoria and Adelaide went down their corridors alone. “Homenum
Revelio.” Astoria muttered as she strode down the passageway, and a door about
twenty feet ahead of her flew open. As she began to make for the door however,
a wizard jumped out at her, sending a killing curse that barely missed her
shoulder by an inch. Astoria leapt aside just in time and the spell hit an urn
set into an alcove in the wall which blew apart, china flying everywhere, and
she felt one of the shards fly into the small of her back. She stifled a scream
of pain and responded with an impediment jinx, but the wizard deflected it,
ripping through the silk wallpaper and setting it ablaze, the flames slowly
licking up the wall. Astoria began to sweat from the heat of the fire as she
began to duel the wizard, forcing him further and further up the corridor until
they came to another landing. Then in the distance there was a loud crash and a
scream, causing the wizard to look over his shoulder. Astoria did not hesitate,
she moved her wand in an upward arc and the wizard was thrown across the
landing and down the stairs, where he landed with an audible ‘smack.’ When
Astoria peered over the golden bannister, she saw that there were fragments of
the wizards skull everywhere and blood was slowly pooling from the back of his
head, his limbs sticking out at odd angles. She leaned on the bannister,
panting slightly as she heard more fights breaking out in other parts of the
palace. Astoria tore off her mask, flung it aside and buried her face in her
hands, breathing raggedly. She dragged herself upright and made her way back to
the corridor, which she was mortified to see was half ablaze now. She hastily
put out the flames and turned toward the room whose door was open to what was
evidently a child’s bedchamber. It was delicately decorated in pale blue and
there were many toys littered upon the bed, but there was no child to be seen.
However, the pull of the spell that she had cast before drew her toward a white
antique wardrobe. Astoria took a deep breath, grasped both of the handles and
pulled open the doors. There, crouched on the floor with his knees huddled up
to his chest and shaking in terror, was a small boy, no more than four years,
dressed in a nightshirt. He had brown curly hair and his blue eyes were full of
tears. Astoria crouched down in order to be at his level and asked softly “What
is your name?” But the boy shrank away, shaking, too frightened to even sob in
earnest.
 
Astoria held out her hand and gave him a small smile. He looked at her, his
eyes fearful and unsure. Merlin knew what this child had been through thus far.
Then, after a moment, the boy squeaked in a small French accent, “Pierre.”
 
“Hello Pierre, my name is Astoria, will you not come out here with me? There
are a few problems in the palace just now and I have been sent to come and get
you. I know your Mother, Justine, wants to see you very much, she is worried.”
She held out her hand even closer to the boy and slowly, tremulously, he put
his small hand in her own. Undoubtedly her knowledge of his Mother’s name had
resolved him to trust her. Of course he trusts youAstoria thought bitterly,
children trust women.Pierre looked up at her after he had clambered out of the
wardrobe, his innocent eyes desperate for reassurance. Astoria made a decision
then, she would not throw this child to the wolves, she could not save him, but
she could at least give him mercy. Mercy. She took a deep breath and asked,
“Tell me Pierre, which is your favourite toy?”
 
“Argent.” Pierre said timidly, pointing toward a silvery stuffed toy in the
likeness of a Hippogriff. The charm on the toy was making it blink and breathe
slowly to make it seem more lifelike.
 
“Well why don’t you show me Argent while we wait for your Mother? And – and,
will you take some honeyed milk?” Astoria asked, trying to keep the break out
of her voice. He nodded shyly, and she sat on the side of the bed, gesturing
for the boy to do the same. Pierre seemed to be more at ease and began to talk
to her a little more. As he did so, Astoria conjured up a crystal bottle filled
with warm, soothing milk and handed it to him. “Quick now, drink it before it
gets cold.” She whispered, and the boy obeyed. Within a few seconds, Pierre’s
eyelids began to droop, and his head nodded against her. Astoria put an arm
around him and stroked his hair, humming softly and willing herself not to cry.
The Basilisk venom that she had laced the milk with would end the boy’s life in
minutes, sparing him the pain and terror of watching his family being murdered,
or else being brutalised by the Death Eaters and Dracula. When Pierre lay
lifeless on the bed, one small hand still grasped around his Hippogriff toy,
Astoria hastily wiped away a tear and set a hover charm upon his body. Child
killer. Murderer.She thought, filled with self loathing.
 
Astoria made her way through the extravagant corridors of Fontainebleau,
Pierre’s body drifting hauntingly before her as she tried to find a staircase.
At last when she came onto a landing, she saw Josiah Zabini dragging a
screaming witch and a small girl by the hair before flinging them roughly onto
the rich carpet. Like Pierre, they were both in their nightclothes. “Aurors
give you trouble?” Josiah asked her gruffly, aiming a kick at the witch who
would not stop weeping and paying absolutely no mind to the dead child floating
in front of him. Before Astoria could answer, Blaise appeared with another
young boy who he had by the scruff of the neck. Josiah then looked round at his
brother and said, “Right, we need to get this lot downstairs.”
 
As they approached the main salon, Astoria heard the faint sounds of the Dark
Lord’s high cold voice, though she could not make out his words. Flickering
orange light danced underneath the doorframe which indicated a roaring fire in
the hearth. Astoria inwardly steeled herself as the doors swung open to reveal
the room within. She had been expecting more cavernous ceilings, but no. Though
the room was vast, the gold panelled beams only reached about fifteen feet
upwards above them. The lower ceilings with the dimmed chandeliers only served
to make the atmosphere even more ominous and threatening. Death Eaters and a
few Vampires crowded the room, furniture that had been broken in the struggle
had been carelessly thrust aside to make room for the Dark Lord who was
standing over his captives, who were lined up in front of the fireplace on
their knees. They all wore the same, terrified expression, but Astoria only
recognised one of them. There, kneeling at the Dark Lord’s feet, was none other
than Gustave Clement, the Mudblood Minister.
Chapter End Notes
     I really hated doing this to Harry and his friends, but I thought
     that it was more realistic for Lord V and his Death Eaters to catch
     them seeing as they are so powerful now. If they escaped then it
     would have just been dull, it would just be a repeat of a la
     Beauxbatons/Kingsley Shacklebolt. I decided to name this chapter
     'Mercy' as I thought it was a good contrast in respect of how
     unmerciful the Death Eaters are to HP in the first half of the
     chapter, compared to the mercy shown by Astoria to Pierre Clement in
     the latter half, which I feel is the truest nature of her character.
     For anyone who's interested, the Palace of Fontainebleau is a real
     place in France and very beautiful: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
     Palace_of_Fontainebleau
***** XXII. - The Mudblood Minister *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter really only has one focus, and it's Voldemort's revenge/
     destruction of his political enemies. I briefly touched upon what he
     did to the Muggle Prime Minister in chapter 7, but this goes into far
     more detail. Personally, I think this is one of the most brutal
     chapters in the story so far and it has been the hardest to write.
     All will be explained in the end of chapter notes. This is also a
     long one. (7k words)
     Warning: Very graphic material.
     Same disclaimer applies.
     *Edit* - Next chapter is written but it needs tweaking here and
     there. I will most like post it tomorrow as I've been so busy over
     the Christmas period and I haven't been able to write at my usual
     pace.
     Hope everyone enjoys the Holidays!
     S x
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Minister Gustave Clément was a wizard in his early fifties with brown hair and
blue eyes, just like Pierre’s. If he did not look so horror stricken and
frightened, then he might have been good looking. The Minister had not grown to
fat as was common for men his age, he was fit and slender like a man of thirty
years or so. There was a woman to his right, weeping hysterically and clutching
a baby boy, and to his left there were two elderly people, a man and a woman,
quivering with fright. If these were his parents, Astoria thought, then they
were Muggles, and would most like be subjected to the worst treatment out of
all of them this night.
 
Astoria waited near the door, seeing as her own victim was dead. Josiah and
Blaise however, strode in front of her, dragging their weeping captives further
into the salon and throwing them at the Dark Lord’s feet. “On your knees for
the Dark Lord!” Blaise barked at them, as they lay in a crumpled heap upon the
floor, stirring feebly. “My Lord, I believe this is the Mudblood Minister’s
sister and her brat.” Blaise announced over the cries of distress. “And the boy
is his eldest son.” He finished, waving a slender hand at the boy he had
dragged in. 
 
The witch whimpered as she looked up into the Dark Lord’s face, and she turned
her own tear streaked face to Minister Clément. “Brother! Oh brother! How? What
-”
 
But his Lordship cut her off. “How dare you speak without Lord Voldemort’s
leave, you vile little cockroach!” He screamed, pointing his wand at her left
arm so that the bones within gave an audible ‘snap.’ The witch shrieked in pain
and clutched at her arm, while her daughter buried her face into her chest,
utterly terrified. The boy who had been hauled in by Blaise had drawn his knees
up to his chest and was hiding his face, rocking backwards and forwards upon
the spot. He could not have been more than ten.
 
Astoria looked away from this nauseating sight and was able to take in the
salon properly now. With the captives that the Zabini brothers had brought,
there were now eight prisoners in front of his Lordship. Nagini was coiled
around a golden statue, tasting the fear in the air with her long black tongue
and hissing softly. The Death Eaters were spread across the vast room in
groups, looking eager and exchanging excited whispers, while the Vampires stuck
together, all still as statues, their hungry yellow eyes fixed on Clément and
his family. The Dark Lord directed his wand at the three new arrivals and at
once, they mirrored the positions of the Minister and, Astoria suspected, his
wife and parents. They were bound by enchantments so that they were on their
knees, their backs slightly bent as though bowing to the Dark Lord.
 
The Dark Lord turned away from his victims and smiled at the sight of the dead
boy hovering in front of Astoria. “Something went amiss I take it, Madam
Dolohov?” He asked callously. Before Astoria could answer, the witch who was
next to Minister looked up. Blaise and Josiah had stridden away to stand by the
wall, so the witch had a clear view of Astoria and the dead boy. At the sight
of Pierre’s body, she let out a long, drawn out scream of anguish, and
Astoria’s suspicions about the witch’s identity were confirmed. This must be
Pierre’s Mother, Justine.She thought, despairingly, for only a Mother could
make such a sound of pain and misery at the sight of her dead child. The baby
she was holding began to squall and she frantically rocked it back and forth in
her arms as tears splashed down her face, shaking with grief. “Silence” sneered
the Dark Lord, directing a virulent jinx at the witch, knocking her backward
and she hit her head, hard, on the edge of the marble fireplace, sobbing
uncontrollably and enclosing the child in her arms to prevent it coming to any
harm as the baby continued to scream.
 
Astoria averted her eyes and addressed the Dark Lord, praying that he was not
employing Legilimency against her. “Yes, my Lord.” She lied, closing her mind
to the thoughts that may betray her. “I was duelling an auror and the boy was
caught up in the struggle. He tried to run.” Astoria did her best to keep her
voice cold and unconcerned, and she released the hover charm on Pierre’s body
so that he fell to the ground with a thud, provoking more screams from his
Mother. Astoria's story seemed to satisfy the Dark Lord, for he looked down at
Minister Clément, who had also begun to weep weakly, and his lipless mouth
twisted into a taught leer.
 
“I would save those tears, Mudblood.” His Lordship grinned, his voice full of
vicious pleasure. “This is only the beginning my dear Minister, we have
hoursahead of us, and by the time my Death Eaters and I are finished with you
and your filthy family, you shall be weeping tears of blood! You deluded
imbecile!” The children began to cry even harder, and Justine and the
Minister’s sister struggled to try and comfort them, but his Lordships spell
kept them confined to the floor, so they did the best they could and whispered
to them in rapid French, trying to quieten them.
 
Then suddenly, the doors to the salon crashed open, and Antonin and Rowle burst
in, dragging two young witches in behind them. One, a girl of sixteen years or
so, looked as though she were Pierre’s sister, the other… Astoria had to do a
double take – Fleur Delacour, elder sister to Gabrielle who was currently being
held captive at Dracula’s castle as Silas’s plaything. Fleur was dressed in the
signature green, Ministry of France robes, and Astoria was fleetingly surprised
that the vain, haughty witch had chosen such a career. Fleur and the younger
girl were struggling, but Antonin and Rowle held them firm with no need of
magic, they were both immensely strong after all. When the younger girl’s eyes
fell upon Pierre’s body, she began to scream hysterically. “Non! Non!” she
wailed in French, tears leaking from her blue eyes. “Ma petit Pierre!” She
abruptly switched back to English as she screamed to the room at large “You
have killed him! WHY!? He was just a little boy!”
 
“Ah, what do we have here?” The Dark Lord called in his high cold voice,
ignoring the girl’s outburst and addressing Antonin and Rowle.
 
Antonin grinned. “These are the last of them, my Lord.” He shook the Minister’s
daughter roughly as she began to grapple even more furiously from his cruel
grasp. “This one is the daughter, I believe.” Antonin glanced down at the
lifeless Pierre upon the floor and smirked up at Astoria. “Nice work finishing
off that dirty little sprog wife.”
 
“YOU! You killed him!?” Screamed the girl, “How - how couldyou, what sort of
witch kills a child!? Tu es un MONSTRE!” And she made to lunge at Astoria, but
Antonin yanked her backwards and twisted her wrist around until she screamed in
pain.
 
“How dare you presume to speak to her, you grotty little whore!” He roared,
shaking her even harder as she cried. “Wife! Give her a taste of my
displeasure!”
 
Astoria started, her heart was filled with dread. It is either her, or you. You
have no choice.She took a deep breath, summoned up all the magic she had within
her and shouted, “Crucio!” The girl went rigid and screamed. Then she fell to
the ground, her whole body shuddering, twitching and jerking so violently that
she was covered in carpet burns in no time, her family yelling incoherently
with fright and misery. After a minute or so, Astoria released the spell and
she heard Antonin’s voice come from behind her. It was hoarse with arousal.
 
“Yes! Oh yes! That was magnificent my love, do it again!” Astoria glanced at
him. The firelight was dancing in his cold blue eyes which were alight with
excitement, he was moistening his lips with his tongue and fondling his crotch.
She gave Antonin what she hoped was a suggestive smile and raised her wand once
again.
 
“NO!” Begged the Minister and his wife.
 
But Astoria blocked them out, ground her teeth and hit the girl with the curse
over and over again until she was stopped from doing so when Antonin grabbed
her, causing her aim to go awry. He drew her body to his and kissed her
aggressively, making noises of pleasure in his throat as the surrounding male
Death Eaters whistled lasciviously. “That was most stirring, my love.” He
whispered breathlessly in her ear when they broke apart. "I am so hard that it
hurts." Antonin then wheeled around seized the girl, dragging her to her feet.
She was sniffling, tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she could barely
stand up under her own power so that Antonin had to coil a muscular arm under
her breasts to keep her from falling, a sadistic grin plastered upon his face.
 
Justine wailed even harder as she beheld her weeping, tortured daughter in
Antonin’s clutches. “Lourdes! Oh Lourdes, my baby girl! Leave her be, you
bâtard!Get your hands off her!” Antonin did not answer, but gave the witch a
wink and an evil smile full of promise, and continued to address his Master,
breathless and panting.
 
“As I was saying my Lord, when we attempted to lay hands on this one,
sheinterfered.” He went on contemptuously, jerking his head in the direction of
Fleur, who had stopped trying to free herself from Rowle and was now shaking
with terror. “Yes,” He sneered, “She put up quite up a fight, but Rowle was
loath to kill her. He thought that we might have a little fun with this exotic
half breed before throwing her into Dracula’s dungeons with that sluttish
sister of hers, if you will it of course.”
 
“Certainly, if that is your wish. Do what you will with her.” The Dark Lord
replied in his high cold voice; he had surveyed the entire scene with a
horrible sort of gratified mirth upon his snake like face.
 
Rowle chuckled and leered at Fleur. “I do like a feisty witch. There’s nothing
more satisfying than hauling a slut into to bed to tame the wildness within her
when she forgets her place.”
 
There was a ripple of laughter and Fleur went as pale as a ghost, her face full
of blind panic. Silas strode up to Fleur and gave her a nasty smile that warped
his disfigured face. “I enjoy your little sister almost every day! Did you not
ever wonder what became of her?” He screeched at Fleur, his voice shaking with
malicious pleasure. “She has a lovely tight cunt, but she’s a crier, especially
when I decide to pass her around, you should hear the way she screams when I -”
but Silas’s grotesque speech was cut off, for Fleur let out a shriek of fury
and spat in his face, attempting to scratch him with her free hand, screaming
French profanities. Silas took a step back and laughed, wiping the spittle off
his cheek and flicking it away.
 
“Are you really going to take that Norton?” Called Jugson lazily, speaking for
the first time. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, watching
the scene with amused derision.
 
“Certainly not!” Cried Silas in his petulant voice, and he stepped towards
Fleur once again and hit her hard across the face, the smack of knuckles on
flesh reverberating around the room. Fleur stifled a scream and shrank back
from Silas’s fury, but Rowle shoved her back toward him. Though Silas was
shorter than Fleur, he was still a young wizard in his prime with a lean hard,
body and far stronger than she. He seized her other arm and threw her to the
floor, cackling maliciously as she fell face first onto the rug.
“Sectumsempra!” He screeched, violently slashing his wand through the air. At
once, the back of Fleur’s robes were ripped open to reveal deep gashes from her
shoulders down to her backside as blood spurted all over the patterned rug.
Lourdes screamed in horror at the sight, Fleur howled in agony and began to
thrash about on the floor as Silas whooped with delight. “You think you have
felt pain thus far? That was just a taster!” Still grinning, Silas waved his
wand, causing the candles in one of the chandeliers to soar out of their stems.
They flew across the room, hovering above Fleur’s heavily bleeding form.
“Candles are so romantic are they not?” Silas jeered to general laughter. “Let
us see how well you like them, my lady.” And with another small flick of his
wand, Silas caused the candles to tip, causing the molten hot wax within to
fill the wounds on Fleur’s back. Astoria did not think it possible that anyone
could make such a noise as Fleur did then, it almost eradicated the screams and
wails of all the other poor tormented souls in the room. She convulsed
violently upon the floor, shaking all over with spittle leaking out of her
mouth, it looked as though she were having some sort of fit. Then she gave a
great gasp, and vomited everywhere. Silas stepped back in disgust, wrinkling
his nose at the acidic smell now permeating the air. “Clean yourself up.” He
said, his reedy voice as cold as ice. He waved his wand and the vomit vanished,
though Fleur was still twitching uncontrollably, her blue eyes rolling in their
sockets. Silas kicked her onto her back and knelt, straddling her, and for a
moment Astoria thought he was going to rape her, but no. He grabbed two
fistfuls of her silvery hair and slammed Fleur’s head repeatedly into the
floor, screaming obscene insults at her. “Pick a number! Silas screeched at her
after a good five minutes of the abuse. “Go on, pick a number!” Fleur merely
let out a gargled moan of pain in answer. “Have it your way!” Silas looked up
to address the surrounding Death Eaters. “Boys! I need two of you to pick a
number!”
 
“Two!” Called Jugson, chortling.
 
“Five!” Roared Avery from the other side of the room.
 
“Very well then!” Silas cried as he cleared his throat and began to sing,
directing his wand between Jugson and Avery. “Eenie meenie miney mo, chop a
Mudblood by her toes, if she bleeds then let her go, eenie meenie miney mo!”
His wand landed on Jugson, and he smiled unpleasantly down at Fleur. “Right,
that is five!” Silas then pointed his wand at Fleur’s right hand and jabbed at
her index finger with his wand. “One!” At once, Fleur’s fingernail was ripped
from her, and she let out a scream of pain. “Save those screams bitch,we still
have four more to go!... Two!” Silas went on in this fashion until all the tips
of Fleur’s right fingers were in bloody ruins. He started to slap and scratch
her face but Rowle forestalled him.
 
“Enough Norton! Leave her face, I want her pretty!” He called, though there was
faint amusement in his voice. Silas merely shrugged and got to his feet,
kicking Fleur in the shoulder as she began to weep uncontrollably, which
increased in pitch as Rowle grabbed her by the ankles and proceeded to drag her
to the back of the salon which was steeped in gloom. “I like a bit of privacy”
He grinned at Silas, who cackled as Fleur struggled feebly.
 
“Fleur! Non! Non, ma Cherie!” Lourdes screamed, beside herself with anguish as
Fleur was hauled away.
 
“The people of France will not stand for this, Voldemort!”Minister Clément
bellowed up at the Dark Lord over Fleur’s sobs from the back of the room as
Rowle took his pleasure. He looked utterly horrified. Several of the Death
Eaters let out low hisses, and others roared in outrage. “Do you hear me? No
matter what you do, no matter who you maim and kill, Harry Potter, the chosen
one, will vanquish you and your vile Death Eaters, I know it! He has more
friends than you realise, Voldemort!Just you wait!”
 
At his last words there was an explosion of scornful laughter, many of the
Death Eaters exchanged gleeful looks and leered at the Minister, their faces
full of sadistic triumph. “Harry Potter is dead,you witless fool!” The Dark
Lord proclaimed over the outpouring of mirth. “I killed him one week ago, he
died a craven and begged me for mercy!” The Minister looked as though he had
been struck in the face and began to shake his head, not wanting to believe his
Lordship’s words. But the Dark Lord ignored him and went on ruthlessly, “And
how dare you utter my name, Mudblood! This requires punishment. I command that
your slovenly brat -” He jerked his head in the direction of Lourdes, “Shall be
the mount of any male who wishes to claim her within this room.” There were
cheers and whistles at his Lordships words, and Astoria felt nauseous. She cast
a glance at the Minister and saw the little colour left in his face drain away.
He looked shocked, stunned, desolate… unable to utter a word as his daughter
began to scream, his resistance seemingly broken.
 
The Dark Lord nodded at Antonin. With a shout of delight, Antonin tore
Lourdes’s thin nightgown from her body, leaving her naked for all the room to
see. There was much whooping and salacious comments from the surrounding Death
Eaters, while her family by contrast, wept and begged. Lourdes was struggling
madly again, but Antonin dealt her a vicious blow on her right temple, and she
stumbled, clutching the spot where he had hit her and almost fell. “Time to
make this one a woman!” He shouted, digging iron fingers into her delicate arm
to keep her from toppling over.
 
Minister Clément seemed to come out of his blind horror and was now fighting
tooth and nail to free himself from the Dark Lord’s spell. “No! No!” He sobbed.
“Mercy my Lord, Mercy! She is my daughter! Do what you will with me, but
please, spare my Lourdes!” But the Dark Lord only laughed and hit him with the
Cruciatus curse. Clément screamed, his back arched and his limbs twisted in
grotesque shapes. His teeth were chattering so badly that he bit off a piece of
his tongue, so that blood bubbled from his mouth.
 
Clément was drenched in sweat and taking in huge gulps of air when the Dark
Lord released the spell. “Now, watch.” His Lordship hissed, and just for good
measure, he pointed his wand at the Clément family, even the children, forcing
their heads around so they were looking right at Lourdes, who was still naked
and sobbing as Antonin circled her like a hungry wolf. When he groped at her
breast, the girl let out a terrified shriek and wet herself, her whole body
shaking with terror. Antonin gave a soft chuckle, and without warning, he gave
her a stinging slap on the backside to renewed screams of pain and the jeering
of the other Death Eaters as they urged him on. He continued to circle her,
pinching and poking at her body, making lewd comments and discussing her openly
with his comrades.
 
Antonin then smirked directly at the Minister as he pointed his wand at
Lourdes, who was forced onto her hands and knees, now hysterical. Naturally he
took the girl from behind, as was his wont with captives; not as a man takes a
woman, but how a dog takes a bitch, Astoria thought, revolted. He gave an
exaggerated groan as he pushed himself inside her, all the while gazing into
the Minister’s face, his face alive with savage pleasure as Lourdes gave a
squeal of pain. Justine shrieked and begged for him to stop, but Antonin merely
grasped the girl under the chin, forcing her face and body upwards as he raped
her, so that she was looking straight into the eyes of her mortified family. It
seemed to Astoria that Antonin was trying not to laugh between his grunts as he
brutally shoved himself in and out of Lourdes. “Maman!” Lourdes cried, “Maman,
it hurts! Make him stop! Papa! Auntie Chloe! HELP ME!”
 
“Be quiet!” Antonin snarled in her ear as he began to increase the pace of his
thrusting. “I am rather enjoying your little daughter Minister” He sneered
breathlessly, as Clément dissolved in misery. Out of every heinous thing
Astoria had seen thus far, this had to be one of the worst. She could not
imagine what it would be like to have her own child defiled like this in front
of her, helpless to do anything to stop it or make the pain go away. This is
another kind of torture, she thought, worse than any curse.Antonin suddenly
gave a strangled moan, he released the girl and she landed on the floor with a
smack. He roughly turned her onto her back and knelt over her, where he
promptly spilled his seed all over her face, his breathing ragged and a chortle
escaping his lips. The elderly man, who had been crying silently with the old
woman, burst out angrily in French at Antonin, his face contorted with rage and
pain. Though Antonin could not understand his words, he seemed to get the
general gist. Wordlessly, he pointed his wand at the old man, whose shouts
turned into screams as his left hand was severed from his arm, blood
fountaining from the ruined stump of mangled flesh and bone as the Clément
family shrieked in terror. Amycus had now forced himself upon Lourdes, who was
now shrieking uncontrollably at the top of her lungs. She struggled fruitlessly
to escape the crushing weight of his foul, pudgy flesh as Amycus let out
obscene, pig like wheezes, roughly slamming himself into her womanly entrance.
 
Antonin began to laugh cruelly, glorying in the family’s despair and Lourdes’
renewed torment. He carried on laughing until there were the sounds of running
footsteps on the polished wood from the adjoining chamber. Bellatrix Lestrange
came racing through the doorway at the head of a pack of Werewolves and the
rest of the Vampires. She was flanked by Greyback and Dracula, who were covered
in blood. She made straight for the Dark Lord and flung herself at his feet,
panting excitedly and taking a handful of his robes, kissing them with fervour.
“My Lord!” She gasped, gazing up at him slavishly. “My Lord, it is done! We
have slain all the remaining aurors within the palace and its grounds, just as
you commanded my Lord!”
 
The Dark Lord looked down at her, a triumphant expression upon his serpentine
face. “Very good, Bella. Lord Voldemort is satisfied. You may rise.”
 
Bellatrix leapt to her feet, her dark eyes filled with tears of joy. “My Lord
knows I am at his unequivocal service!” She gushed, breathlessly. The rapturous
expression on her face died as soon as she laid eyes upon the Clément family,
who had watched the whole exchange with bewildered and horrified expressions
upon their tear stained faces. The old man was now half conscious from his
severed hand, but he was unable to collapse in earnest due to the Dark Lord’s
spell. “So” Bellatrix leered, advancing upon the quaking family, looking
utterly mad with her wand raised as red sparks shot from the tip. “What do we
have here?” Her insane gaze roved over the terrified captives and it fell, not
on the Minister, but upon the elderly couple next to him. “These are the
Mugglesare they not?” Bellatrix did not wait for an answer, and was now
towering over the stooped old man and the cowering old woman. “You are nothing
but filth!” She suddenly screamed. “This is only the beginning! By the time we
have finished with your rotten kind, there shall be bodies piled up to the
sky!” Bellatrix’s wand slashed through the air, and she began to torture the
two old Muggles for what seemed like an age. She finished this horrendous
display by seizing an ornate bayonet that had been mounted on the wall, and
plunging it into the old Muggle woman’s stomach, cackling madly. The elderly
woman gave a strangled yell and blood began to leak from her mouth as Bellatrix
twisted the blade cruelly. When she drew it out, the woman’s entrails gushed
out onto the floor. The smell was almost unendurable as she fell forward with a
sickening squelch, dead.
 
“Maman!” The Minster wailed in anguish as he beheld the dead woman “Oh, Maman!”
Though he was a grown man, Astoria thought that he sounded no different than
his terrified children.
 
“Be quiet, MUDBLOOD!” Shrieked Bellatrix, who had flown into a crazed, almost
rabid sort of state, her gaunt face filled with fanatical malice, her head
rolling sideways onto her neck. She dealt the Minister a slash across his chest
with the sharp end of the bayonet and began to beat him all over with the
musket, howling incoherent insults. The Dark Lord came up behind her and hissed
at Nagini, who uncoiled herself from the statue she had been perched upon, and
began to wrap herself around the old man. She crushed the life out of him as he
wheezed and choked, gasping for breath, and Astoria heard the unmistakable
sounds of his ribcage puncturing his lungs.
 
The night only became more brutal as it dragged on, and Astoria had been
dreading what would happen when her fellow Death Eaters turned their cruelty
upon the children. Indeed, Yaxley paved the way for the unspeakable acts. The
baby boy in Justine’s arms began to wail again at all the noise as the family
howled at the sight of their dead elders at Bellatrix’s feet. “I grow tired of
that screaming whelp!” Yaxley roared from across the room, “Time to dispose of
that scummy little Mudblood urchin!” He then strode up to the screaming Justine
and her infant, ripped the baby from her arms and threw him into the fireplace.
The sound that the boy made as his little body made contact with the flames was
unlike any Astoria had ever heard, the child’s scream seemed to tear through
her like a razor sharp blade… the noises did not even sound human. She thought
of her own son then, and wanted to break down and weep, heartbroken at this
senseless suffering of an innocent child. Hestia however, laughed derisively as
Justine began to shriek incoherently along with her burning child, maddened by
this monstrosity. “Mudblood filth!” Hestia called jeeringly, as the baby’s
screams subsided, the smell of burning flesh befouling the salon as his body
congealed in the fire. Minister Clément began to roar in rage and anguish, but
Justine had suddenly stopped screaming. Something had died in her eyes. Astoria
could see it, even though she was a good ten feet away. Justine’s shoulders
slumped, and she began to shake violently and mutter to herself, her eyes
rolling in all directions, before finally fainting. Astoria felt certain that
she had lost her mind.
 
The Death Eaters were jeering and shouting insults at the Minster as he cried
in despair, the Dark Lord was circling him and his unconscious wife, screeching
at them at the top of his voice. Astoria could not make out most of his words,
but she caught a few. “You see! You see, you vile Mudblood! I am all powerful,
you honestly thought that you could challenge me!? ME!?” He screamed over the
tumult. “Lord Voldemort, the greatest sorcerer in the world, be cowed by the
likes of YOU!?... CRUCIO!” Astoria barely heard the Minister’s yells as the
Dark Lord mercilessly hit him with the curse over and over again, laughing as
he writhed upon the floor, screaming and crying. When his Lordship grew tired
of the sport, he turned to the room and announced, “Death Eaters! I give you
full reign to do as you wish with these creatures!” And the Dark Lord lifted
his spell on all the family, excepting the Minister, forcing him to watch on.
They all fell into a crumpled heap and huddled together, shaking with terror.
Lourdes was being raped for the twentieth time or so, now being taken by Blaise
Zabini, as the other wizards rallied.
 
At his Lordship’s words, the Death Eaters advanced upon the remaining
Clément’s, savage anticipation etched upon every face. Minister Yildriz strode
up to the captives and sneered at Clément. “Ah, how are you faring, fellow
Minister?” Yildriz rolled up the sleeves of his robes to reveal the newly
burned Dark Mark upon his left inner forearm, grinning as Lourdes was sullied
repeatedly. The Dark Lord had agreed to make him and his men Death Eaters after
their assistance in the capture and murder of Potter as a reward, Astoria knew.
“I do not think I have glimpsed you since the last gathering of the
International Confederation of Wizards… How the mightyfall!” He smirked
derisively. Yildriz's expression was full of barbaric bloodlust as he gestured
for his men to take Lourdes once Blaise had taken his pleasure. Some of his men
had armed themselves with brutal iron pokers that had been stacked by the fire,
and began to beat Lourdes remorselessly with an almost bestial fervour. Angry
red and purple marks blemished Lourdes’ pale skin as they struck her again and
again while she cried out in agony. Astoria felt her flesh prickling as she
heard Silas piping gleefully in the background, and she was seized with a
strong desire to curse him into a thousand slimy pieces.
 
After they had battered her entire body to a pulp, Dashiell Selwyn knelt over
Lourdes, seized one of the spiked pokers from one of Yildriz’s men, and
proceeded to violate the girl with it. She let out a horrendous shriek as the
cruel metal penetrated her. Dashiell had raped Lourdes so viciously with the
poker that when he wrenched it out of her, intestines were glistening upon the
sharp tip, and he proceeded to pull the rest of her innards out from her
womanly folds between her legs. He grabbed a fistful of the ropey, glistening,
snake like organs and hurled them straight at Chloe Clément, the Minister’s
sister, who let out a cry of horror and hastened to wipe the guts and gore that
were covering her face and hair, crazed with terror and grief.
 
Chloe’s screams had drawn Dracula’s attention to her. With a nasty smile, he
pointed a bony finger toward her and rasped, “That one.” Chloe began to wail,
and clutched desperately at her daughter as two male Vampires strode toward
her, their white hands outstretched.
 
“Don't you touch my Lina!” She shrieked, as the Vampires pried her arms from
her hysterical little daughter, shoving the girl roughly aside. They dragged
Chloe toward Dracula who was grinning, his long fangs bared. When Chloe was
thrown at Dracula’s feet, he sunk to his knees and raised one of his claw like
hands. He stiffened his fingers oddly, then in one fell swoop, he tore into
Chloe’s stomach, leaving an open gaping wound as she let out a hair raising
scream of excruciating agony, attempting to wrestle the Vampires in vain as
Dracula’s hand explored her insides, evidently deciding what parts of her he
would feast upon first.
 
Astoria was filled with horrified surprise that Chloe had not been overcome by
these devastating wounds as she continued to yell and struggle. Lyle Nott,
apparently, was not amused. “Enough of this rubbish!” He barked, as Chloe
thrashed about on the floor. Lyle directed his wand at a solid marble globe
which came shooting across the room. The sphere came smashing down onto Chloe’s
head, her skull shattering as blood and brains flew everywhere. Some of the
Vampires scrabbled for the scraps as Dracula gave a raspy cackle. There was a
tremendous amount of noise in the salon as the Vampires proceeded to tear Chloe
Clement limb from limb, blood flooding the carpet as Dracula buried his face in
the gash down the middle of her stomach, tearing out her liver as he emerged.
 
Hestia and Drisella then marched over to where the Minister’s eldest son was
still huddled by the fireplace, trembling with fright. Astoria thought she had
heard Justine call him ‘Raphael;’ her heart ached for the boy as the two
sadistic witches loomed above him. Hestia waved her wand in an arc, and at
least three score black hornets the size of rats burst from her wand tip,
buzzing horribly as they began to stab the boy all over his body with their
cruel, curved stings as he shrieked in pain, holding his hands over his head to
try and protect himself. Drisella laughed and indiscriminately hurled hexes and
jinxes at Raphael, whose yells of pain only increased in pitch.
 
Travers then approached his Lordship and bowed. “My Lord, if I might?” He
asked, a sadistic smile playing around his thin mouth. Evan Rosier, whom
Astoria had only just noticed, was hovering behind him, was wearing a similar
expression on his cruel face. The Dark Lord gave a curt nod and Travers turned
to Clément, looking down at him like he was a piece of dirt. “Fuck your wife.”
He commanded in a hard voice. Astoria could not quite believe what she just
heard but – “Go on, you heard me Mudblood! Fuck her right here in front of all
of us, or I will give that little beast -” He pointed at the sobbing Lina, who
was watching her Mother being devoured by the Vampires - “To our friend
Greyback here. If you do not do as I say, he will rip her to shreds before your
very eyes. Do as I command, and her ending might just be swift and merciful.”
Fenrir Greyback stepped forward and leered at Clément, licking his lips and
picking at his teeth with his long, dirty fingernails.
 
Astoria thought that Clément was going to be sick, his skin was grey, and
spittle was drooling from his mouth, moistening the dried blood on his chin
from where he had bitten off part of his tongue. “What… what is wrong with you
people? I cannot -”
 
“Last chance Mudblood!” Barked Travers. When Clément fell forward onto his
hands and began to dry heave, Travers lost patience. “Greyback! Take the brat,
if that is your pleasure.”
 
Greyback lunged forward eagerly, but then the Minister found his voice, though
it was cracked and defeated. “No! No please! I will – I will do it!” He began
to sob as the Dark Lord lifted the spell that bound him to the floor so that he
was able to shake his wife back to consciousness, who awoke with a scream. “I
am so sorry, mon amour.” He wept, tremulously drawing out his member, trying to
stiffen himself. Justine shrieked hysterically and scrambled backwards away
from her husband, unable to believe what he was attempting to do.
 
Hestia and Drisella had ceased tormenting the boy, Raphael, who was whimpering
on the floor, but at the sounds of his Mother’s renewed screams, he twisted
around on the floor, tears pouring from his blue eyes, his face and body
covered in bleeding puncture marks. The poor boy was seemingly transfixed with
horror and confusion as he watched the Minister, his own Father, being forced
to rape his Mother while she wept and screamed, attempting to beat him off with
her fists and scratching at his face. Travers, meanwhile, was laughing. “Yes…
yes! That’s it Minister! Fuck your precious Mudblood slut!” The Minister and
Justine wept together as he ground into her unwillingly, mortified that what
was supposed to be an act of love had been turned into a degrading spectacle
for the twisted amusement of their sworn enemies. “Very good” Travers smiled,
and he looked to Greyback, who had watched the perverted display with lustful
eyes, slaver dripping from his jaws. “You may take the girl” he said, coldly.
 
“No, no, no! PLEASE!” Clément begged, clasping his hands out in front of him
and looking up, imploringly, into Travers’s cold, uncaring face. “You swore to
be merciful!”
 
“I am going to be merciful, fool.” Replied Travers, smoothly. “Greyback, tear
out the little Mudblood sprog’s throat out first so that it kills her
instantly. You see? Edward Travers is as good as his word, I told you I would
be merciful, and so I have been. I could have just as easily commanded Greyback
to pass that creature around his pack, a far more painful death if you ask me.”
He smiled unpleasantly down into Clément’s grief stricken face. Greyback then
bounded towards the terrified little girl, his jaws closing around her neck as
blood spurted everywhere, spraying the sobbing Justine and Raphael as they
cowered. The best thing that could be said was that the girl’s life ended
swiftly, just as Travers had so crassly outlined; she was dead before she hit
the floor as Greyback began to savage her, panting and grunting excitedly. One
of this pack latched himself onto the child’s leg, and they began tugging at
her small body like two dogs fighting over a veal chop. Suddenly, without
warning, Justine launched herself to her feet and flew at Travers, seemingly
crazed with rage. Before she could reach him however, Rosier grabbed her by the
throat and began to throttle her violently, as he sniggered tauntingly all the
while and snarled insults at her. Rosier did not strangle Justine to death,
instead he preferred to throw her from him, after which he wiped his hands on
the front of his robes as though he had dirtied himself. Astoria saw that the
whites of Justine’s eyes had turned red, she was frothing at the mouth, and
taking great rattling breaths as she lay upon the floor, defeated.
 
The torture and humiliation went on for hours and hours, and still had not
abated when the sky began to lighten outside. Astoria knew that the Dark Lord
wanted Clément to be thoroughly punished for everything he had ever said
against the Dark Order, so he needs must have his fill. He seemed to be
determined to inflict every kind of sick and debased torture upon the Minister
and his family. When the sun had risen high up into the sky, Astoria glanced at
a gilded clock framed by cherubs on a sideboard. It was now noon, and nearly
all within the salon lay dead. Fleur was naked and cowering in a dark corner,
her flesh battered and bruised. Someone had cruelly fastened an iron collar
around her neck which was attached to a heavy ball and chain, preventing her
from crawling away. Dracula and his Vampires hissed as the sunlight streamed
through the gold paned windows, backing further away into the gloom. Astoria
knew that Vampires were unable to walk in the daylight for more than a few
minutes without being horribly scorched, eventually bursting into flames and
dying if they did not reach the darkness in due course. Wordlessly, Snape began
to conjure up small potion bottles and distributed them around the Vampires.
“This will give you protection from the sun for about a moon’s turn.” Snape
declared after he had handed over the last bottle. “Report straight to me
should you feel any ill effects.”
 
Then, Astoria heard a dry whimper, and she and the other Death Eaters who had
been watching Snape address the Vampires, turned. It was the Minister who had
uttered. He had not made a sound for hours as his family were struck down
around him. Many of the Death Eaters laughed softly and surveyed him with
vicious triumph. The Dark Lord walked across the blood stained rugs toward
Gustave Clément, sliding the mangled remains of Chloe Clément out of his path
with a sweep of his wand. The Minister was half naked, covered in injuries and
his head had been shaved by Elizabeth and Adelaide. He merely stared blankly at
the floor, his eyes flat and dead. Perhaps he has run out of tears,Astoria
thought, the Dark Lord has broken him. There was total silence in the room,
every eye was upon the Dark Lord. “Look at me Minister.” He hissed softly. When
Clément did not respond, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him so that his head
jerked upward, so that he was staring directly into those pitiless red eyes.
His Lordship then conjured up a large crystal vial, swimming with what looked
like dark red smoke. “Know what this is?” He asked Clément, but he did not seem
to expect an answer, so he went on remorselessly, “This is a plague, Minister.
A plagueof my own invention that will wipe out those precious Muggles that you
hold so dear. I shall release this to experiment on this charming town of
yours… if anyone is still alive, that is. If all goes well, it shall slay all
Muggles within twenty five leagues of here.” The Dark Lord smiled cruelly as he
saw fresh tears pouring down Clément’s face, and he mumbled some words Astoria
could not hear, but the Dark Lord gave a screech of laughter and said, “Say
that again Minister, so all of us can hear!”
 
“KILL ME!” The Minister choked through his sobs, trembling violently.
 
The Dark Lord continued to laugh. “Kill you? I think not. I have other plans
for you my dear Minister.” And with a flick of his wand, Clément was then
imprisoned in a black iron cage which provoked raucous laughter from the Death
Eaters. With a look of dastardly amusement on his face, the Dark Lord strode
toward the fireplace. He uncorked the vial, and released the dark red smoke,
which escaped with a loud rush as it went flying up the chimney to the sky
above. Looking deeply satisfied, the Dark Lord turned back to the room and
addressed them all. “Cut off their heads.” He said, coldly. “We shall impale
them upon the spikes of the gates, so that when they are discovered by my
enemies they will know what befalls anyone who dares to oppose Lord Voldemort’s
rule!” At his words there was wild outburst of jeering and applause. “This, is
my declaration of war upon France!” He screamed over the tumult. As Silas
strode toward the dead body of Lourdes and severed her head with a slash of his
wand, the Minister fainted, his forehead banging on the metal bars of the cage.
Astoria determinedly fixed her eyes upon the still portrait above the fire when
the time came for little Pierre to be beheaded, willing herself not to collapse
upon the floor and be sick. When the grisly work was done with, the Werewolves
gathered up the heads of Justine, Lourdes, Pierre, Lina, Raphael and the
Minister’s parents, holding them by the hair as blood oozed from the ragged
flesh of their necks, their blank eyes unseeing. Naturally, they could not take
the head of Clément’s sister, Chloe, seeing as it had been smashed to bloody
ruins. “Now, assemble in the courtyard, there is one last task I need of you.”
Announced the Dark Lord. “Fenrir, you and your pack have my leave to be
excused, I command you to see to the heads.” Greyback gave a monstrous smile
and bowed, his pack following suit. The Death Eaters all proceeded to troop
through the silent palace as the sunlight streamed in bright through the
windows, illuminating the crystal chandeliers which cast rainbow lights over
the magnificent surroundings, beautiful and unknowing to the horror that had
taken place within these walls.
 
Astoria got a shock when she stepped outside. To be sure, the sun was shining,
but the sky had an ominous, swirling red haze to it from the plague that the
Dark Lord had unleashed. She shuddered, and began to make her way down the left
side of the horseshoe entrance stairs alongside the others, where they waited
in the courtyard. The Dark Lord was standing in the centre so that he looked
down upon them all, though his red eyes were currently fixed upon the distant
horizon. Astoria glanced at Draco, who was a few feet away from her, his grey
eyes staring at the palace, his jaw clenched, his face white and shocked. Most
like, he had been as horrified as she at what had befallen Minister Clément and
his family. Astoria hastily cast her gaze away from Draco, not wanting Antonin
to notice that she had even looked in his direction. Instead she drew her
attention to the ruined front doors of the palace, and observed that Dracula
and his entourage of Vampires were among the last to emerge. They were hesitant
at first, but Astoria saw Dracula step out first, holding out his hands in
front of him and turning them over, as though unable to believe that he was
walking in daylight for the first time in centuries without being burned. He
clenched his fists and raised his skull like face to look up into the sky, his
expression exultant. He jerked his head at his minions, indicating that it was
safe to step outside, and they all filed down the stone steps. An incredibly
tall male Vampire brought up the rear, dragging Fleur by the chain attached to
the metal collar around her neck, and Astoria saw that her wrists and feet had
also been bound in iron manacles. When they were all assembled, the Dark Lord
surveyed them all. “Silence!” He shrieked over the low murmur of voices, and
everyone stopped talking at once. “Now, Death Eaters! I command you burn this
foul Muggle hovel to the ground!” With shouts of delight, the Death Eaters
scattered all over the courtyard, each witch or wizard making for a different
portion of the enormous palace as Feindfyre began to erupt everywhere. As
Astoria made for the Eastern column, she saw Silas performing a grotesque sort
of jig on the spot, flourishing his wand so that a fiery tiger burst from the
tip, and the beast began to rampage through the gardens, destroying all the
greenery in its path, giving an unearthly roar. Astoria directed her own
Feindfyre at a large window. It took the form of a monstrous wolf that bounded
forward, snarling, as it smashed through the glass and lit up the entire
corridor within as it charged. She glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed the
Dark Lord, still standing at the top of the stone steps, his deathly white skin
glowing from the blinding brightness of the Feindfyre, his serpentine face
alight with demonic glee. “Burn it! Burn it all! Burn it all, until there is
nothing left but ash!” He screeched, his high cold, inhuman voice clear and
audible over the roaring and billowing of the flames. The Dark Lord blasted the
Dark Mark into the sky and began to laugh like the deranged maniac that he was.
He laughed and laughed at the destruction exploding around him, raising his
hands high in the air as Dementors, Vampires and fiery beasts swirled and leapt
against the blood red sky.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay so I this is probably the only chapter so far that I have not
     really enjoyed writing. I nearly cut it and planned to do a brief
     description of what happens to the French Minister and his family in
     Fontainebleau... BUT, I thought that would come across as lazy/rushed
     storytelling. This is because from about chapter 10 we get fed the
     idea of the French Minister and his name continues to pop up every
     now and then, with Lord V's desire to punish him, Astoria pondering
     what will become of him, and the Minister is really the main reason
     the Death Eaters struck at France in the first place. Therefore, I
     thought it made more sense to describe the Minister's fate rather
     than skipping out on it, as all the info building up to this would
     have just seemed like pointless filler. Also, I hesitate to use child
     death/murder/torture in my writing but I didn't really have a way
     around this one, and I'm sorry if it has upset anyone. However, I
     have always tried to keep Lord V's personality more or less canon
     compliant, and as everyone knows, he is utterly ruthless, so there is
     no way he would have spared the Minister's children. I do not intend
     to write a chapter like this again unless the plot warrants it.
     Bayonet: http://americanhistory.si.edu/onthewater/assets/object/full/
     2008-7117.jpg
***** XXIII. - The Plague *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter is a bit tamer than the latest ones I've been writing
     which has been a nice change writing wise, it gets a bit wearing
     writing about blood and guts all the time!
     Same disclaimer applies.
     *Edit* - I am gong away in a couple of days for the New Year so the
     next chapter will probably be posted in a couple of weeks, though it
     may be sooner as the introduction has already been written, which I
     plan on extending in the intervening time before I travel. But it all
     depends on whether I'm happy with it or not, so keep checking back if
     you are following this. Thankyou so much again for the comments/
     kudos's, it is really appreciated!
     *Edit* - I have had a lot going on at the moment so the next chapter
     is later than expected, but I would say its about 70% done, might
     post it later today if I'm happy with it.
     Happy Holidays!
     S x
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Astoria was numb when she arrived back at Dracula’s ghastly abode. She barely
noticed all the maniacal laughter exploding around her when the cage containing
the now deposed Minister Clément thudded to the floor and various Death Eaters
fired hexes at him through the iron bars while he screamed in anguish. The
Minister was hopelessly clutching at the bars and yelling, though the Dark
Lord’s high, cold voice drowned him out as he announced, “Fenrir, take our
dearMinister down to the dungeons for the nonce. You may torture him as much as
you have a care for, but do not bite him, I want him alive, is that
understood?” Greyback gave an amused grunt and nodded, his face full of savage
triumph as he gazed at the caged Minister and the Dark Lord went on, “Should
this Mudblood show signs of expiring, feed him hard bread and cheese so that he
does not die, force it down his throat if you must!” There was laughter as
Greyback and his Werewolves heaved the cage away, the Minister’s shrieks
echoing around the grim hall as he was dragged to his doom. The grisly
procession was then followed by Dracula and his minions, who were dragging a
bleeding and sobbing Fleur amongst them, still bound in chains. They all bared
their fangs at her and leered as she dissolved in paradigms of misery, and
Astoria could see angry red marks upon her neck and wrists where the cruel iron
manacles had scraped off her skin.
 
“I shall be seeing you later, Veela slut!” Called Rowle, giving Fleur a
sarcastic little wave as she was forced down the corridor that led down to the
dungeons. Astoria could still hear her screams echoing off the walls even after
she was well out of sight.  
 
After this grim spectacle, the Death Eaters were murmuring excitedly amongst
themselves as they all made for the dining hall, where they were promptly
served a relatively simple supper of rare duck with plum sauce, Dauphinoise
potatoes and crisp greens slathered in butter. But Astoria barely had the
stomach to eat, only doing so as not to incite Antonin’s wrath. The meal was
relatively traditional compared to the usual ghastly fare, but Astoria may as
well have been eating carpet as she forced the food down, willing herself not
to vomit while thinking about the bloody encounter at Fontainebleau. She could
have almost thanked Antonin when the food was done with and he commanded her to
go up to their chambers where she was to ‘get ready’ for him, after which he
turned back to Rookwood whom he had been speaking with in hushed tones
throughout the entire dinner. She had murmured her assent and swept gracefully
from the room. However, as soon as she was out of eyeshot and turned the corner
to make her way up the stone staircase, she broke into a run, her boots echoing
on the floor in the silence. Father had always deplored the idea of a lady
running,she thought, wildly. Astoria raced through the blood red corridors
until she came to their apartments. Frantically twisting the doorknob, she
burst into the bedchamber and slammed the door behind her, blood thundering
through her ears. She strode to the middle of the room, kicked off her boots
and all but tore her Death Eater robes from her body which stank of smoke and
corpses, half tempted to throw them upon the fire. Astoria sank onto the side
of the bed, breathing hard, now clad only in her lingerie. She looked up out of
the window to behold the bleak view outside. The monstrous Amazonian Vipertooth
soared in great arcs around the dead lake, dwarfing all the other dragons which
were following suit. Her fright and horror could not be contained any longer,
she buried her face in her hands and wept. She wept and wept until she was a
gibbering trembling mess, and did not think she would have been able to utter a
word of sense even if she tried. Hot, venomous guilt was coursing through her
veins, poisoning her mind and body alike; her skin was prickling all over and
she was drenched in sweat, rocking backward and forward like a madwoman.
‘Monster,’a nasty voice whispered in the back of her mind, ‘Murderer.’It did
not even help when Astoria closed her eyes and laid down upon the feather bed,
this only served to give her flashbacks of every harrowing thing that she had
witnessed, and participated in, over the last day and a half. She did not know
for how long she laid there, huddled into herself and weeping into her silken
pillow in abject distress, but Antonin had still not arrived... Antonin!Astoria
was wrenched out of her tortured thoughts at once and her eyes flew open.
Antonin could not see her like this, weeping and smelling of salty sweat, he
would be furious. Tears enraged him, unless they were on his terms of course,
and he would expect to find her waiting for him in a state of undress, batting
her lashes adoringly. Astoria leapt from the bed and flung herself down in
front of the carved, black dressing table. She hastily dabbed powder onto her
face to hide the blotchy red blemishes upon her skin, and dripped Antonin’s
favourite scent all over her body; Rosewood and essence of Orchid. It was
imperative that she looked and smelled beautiful for him. “Jinky!” Astoria
called, and the undead House Elf appeared at once. “I require a bath, draw one
at once if you please, rose water is preferred.”
 
“At once Madam Dolohov.” Squeaked Jinky with a deep curtsy. Astoria followed
the elf into the bathing suite, and with a snap of Jinky’s fingers, the
circular bathtub sunk into the floor was filled with pink, bubbling, sweet
smelling water. As Jinky scuttled around fetching oils and cleansers, Astoria
slipped out of her lingerie, leaving it in a pool of silk and ribbons on the
black marble floor before slinking gracefully into the warm water. She laid her
head backward as Jinky began to work berry scented infusions into her hair,
occasionally scooping up the bathwater to wet her tresses, and Astoria was
almost relaxed, though occasionally she would feel the elf’s ice cold touch
upon her skin which made her shudder. The heated oils in the water were making
her feel sleepy when she suddenly heard heavy footfalls making their way into
the suite. She jerked her head up and was not surprised to see Antonin swaying
in the doorway, a bottle ofLedyanoy Korol'vodka clutched in his hand. This one
was a favourite of his, she knew; Ice King,a particularly potent concoction
from his native Russia.The sight made Astoria nervous, Antonin was even more
unpredictable when he was drunk.
 
“Leave us, elf” Antonin slurred, and Jinky disappeared with a loud ‘Crack!’ He
slammed the bottle down by the sink, began to undress clumsily, and was soon
stripped bare. Despite Antonin’s heavy drink intake, Astoria saw that his
member was hard and erect, jutting out from his muscular body. She supposed
that this was better than him being ‘incapable,’ that always made him so angry,
and he would often blame herfor his inability to perform, which would normally
result in a very rough encounter when he was restored to full vigour. “Such a
lovely surprise.” Antonin declared, as he lowered himself into the bathtub
somewhat awkwardly while still holding the vodka bottle. “My luscious little
wife, naked and waiting for me, covered in sweet oils, like a delicious piece
of cake. You are truly a lovely sight to behold my darling.” He ogled at every
bit of Astoria’s naked skin that was not submerged in the bathwater. The oils
had made the golden hue of her skin shimmer in the dim candlelight and water
was beading down between her breasts. Antonin touched her under her chin,
brushing his thumb along her bottom lip, his tongue moistening his mouth. He
then took another great swig from the bottle, and conjured up a crystal goblet.
“Will you partake, my lady?” He asked with a wolfish smile and attempted to get
her into focus, still reeling slightly, though there was no mistaking the
lustful desire in those cold blue eyes. Moreover, Astoria was not fooled. The
‘offer’ of the drink was no offer at all, it was a command, so she dare not
refuse.
 
“I should be delighted, you are most kind, husband.” Astoria murmured back, as
he handed her the goblet full of the clear liquid, watching her intently. The
first sip of the vodka was like molten lava down the back of her throat, such
was its potency. Astoria felt her eyes water as she gulped down the drink and
resisted the urge to cough it back up, she knew that would not amuse Antonin.
However, he had not noticed her momentary discomfort as he had now produced a
black cigarette, lighting it with a snap of his fingers, and Astoria noticed
with curiosity in spite of herself, that the smoke was scarlet rather than the
vivid blue she was accustomed to seeing. Antonin saw her looking and smirked,
throwing an arm around her dainty shoulders and fondling her right breast idly
as he puffed away.
 
“This is somewhat different to tobacco.” He announced. “Young Masakh Shafiq
sent it over, he is currently stationed in the Middle East, and this was part
of the most recent plunder from some palace or other. It is said that it
causes, ah – relationsto be far more satisfying. Here, try.” Antonin held out
the smoking cigarette or whatever it was between his fingers, and Astoria
dutifully leaned forward and took a tentative intake of breath. Her head was
already swimming from the effects of the immensely strong vodka, and the
inhalation of the smoke seemed to compound this feeling. She felt light headed
and out of control, and she saw that Antonin was smirking still more broadly at
the sight of her obvious intoxication. “My sweetheart needs to pace herself.”
He purred softly, drawing her in even closer, the strong smell of vodka fumes
permeating the little space between them. “I loved watching you give that
Mudblood Minister’s little slut her just dues yestereve, will you do that for
me again when the chance presents itself?” Astoria nodded mutely, and Antonin
ran his fingers through her sodden hair which still glimmered gold despite the
wetness. He gave a grunt of pleasure and grasped her behind her neck, pulling
her toward him as he began to kiss her roughly, his breathing deep and rapid.
Antonin had not shaved since they had left for Fontainebleau, and his stubble
prickled her skin uncomfortably, making his kisses crueller than usual. Astoria
had almost forgotten about the goblet she was still clutching until Antonin
jerked it out of her hand and flung it across the bathing suite, where it
shattered somewhere upon the wall. He broke the kiss and grasped her by the
hips, positioning her over his lap as the bathwater splashed around both of
them and slopped over the sides. Antonin grinned as she gave a little gasp when
the head of his member brushed her entrance. He had not been far wrong,
whatever they had smoked had served to heighten her sense and touch tenfold,
even though in the back of her mind she was screaming against these unwanted
sensations. It was though her body had been taken over by these vile
substances, and she wanted to weep even as she let out a moan when Antonin slid
himself up inside her grunting, grasping her waist as he did so. When Astoria
began to ride him in earnest, Antonin raked his fingers down her back, moaning
in pleasure. “Such a sweet little cunt.” He breathed in her ear, pinning her
against his heaving chest. Astoria’s head was spinning, she hated feeling this
way and struggled to keep her composure as Antonin released her and began to
grope at her breasts, far too roughly as usual, all the while grinding into her
noisily. Antonin then grasped her by the jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes
as she panted breathlessly. “So beautiful” Antonin murmured, his other hand
groping at her backside. Astoria then drew in a sharp intake of breath, that
familiar warm, tingling feeling between her legs intensifying more powerfully
than ever before. When she began to moan, Antonin seized her and began to kiss
her hard again, grasping her tightly and groaning. When they broke apart,
Antonin’s eyes were upon her breasts as he bounced her up and down upon his
length. Astoria placed her hands upon his chest, and that seemed to do it. At
last, at last,Antonin’s rippling muscles became taut, he ground his teeth
together and moaned as he finished inside her. After his breathing slowed, he
slid her off of him and set her down in the water with a splash. He heaved
himself heavily out of the bathtub and picked up the vodka bottle, finishing
the rest of it in one. “Come.” He commanded, holding out his hand to haul
Astoria to her feet. However, she was dizzy from the drink, and was unable to
walk more than a few steps without nearly toppling over. Antonin then grew
impatient and clumsily picked her up to carry her back into the bedchamber.
Predictably, once they were in bed, Antonin made it clear that he had not
finished with her. Astoria saw that he was stiffening again, and he began to
plant sloppy wet kisses all over her body, murmuring drunkenly and touching her
all over. “It has been some time since you gave me my first boy... I think it
is time that you give me another.” And he pulled Astoria toward him by her
hips, and positioned himself between her legs.
 
At least an hour passed after Antonin had passed out drunk after repeatedly
bedding her, and Astoria still could not sleep. She was wide awake, and her
head had stopped spinning, but her thoughts were now filled with tormented
parents and mutilated children. Nothing could divert her. She did manage to
drift off to sleep once or twice, but the respite was brief, for she was to be
wrenched out of her slumber by monstrous dreams, her naked skin drenched in
cold sweat as she lay there, trembling. Astoria needed the one thing she loved
most in this world, her son... Dare she risk it?She sat up and looked down at
Antonin, who gave a great grunting snore and turned over, breathing deeply, his
scarred, muscular back rising and falling. Usually when he had this much to
drink he did not wake until the morning, surely, she could slip away for a
little while? Astoria sat there, her heart hammering in her chest, agonising
over what to do, elated at the prospect of seeing her son, yet terrified of
what Antonin would do if he awoke to find her gone. Most like he would whip the
flesh from her back, which he had threatened to do several times while in a
drunken rage. Astoria thought of her Leo, his smile, his touch, his happy
little giggles when he looked at her… Slowly, very slowly, she slid out of the
bed, freezing for a moment as it creaked under her weight, just to make sure
that the noise had not woken her husband. Astoria tiptoed across the bedchamber
to where her bed robe was flung over the window seat. The garment was heavy,
crafted in double woven cashmere and thickly trimmed with luscious silver fox
fur. It did not serve to wear the light silken bed robes that she was
accustomed to, the bedchamber was chill now that the fire was almost
extinguished in the hearth, and most like the corridors would be ice cold. As
she swept across the room Astoria ignored the matching silver fox bed slippers
that lay under the dressing table, she would need to be as silent as possible
and the noise of slippers on stone would only serve to hinder her. She turned
the doorknob as quietly as she could and slipped out into the corridor.
 
Predictably, the corridors were glacial, and Astoria winced slightly as her
soft bare feet skimmed the cold stone, and she saw her breath misting in front
of her. Everything was as black as pitch, with only a single fire sconce at the
end of the corridor to illuminate her way, so she made her way toward it. After
passing the light, it was dark again, and Astoria felt up the right side of the
stone wall until she grasped the edge of a bannister. She tentatively lifted
her foot to find the first step and began to climb, there were at least thirty
of them. When she came to the top, there were flickering shadows shifting from
sconces that had been lit down a further corridor, and Astoria heard two male
voices murmuring to one another in Turkish. She flattened herself against the
cold wall, glanced surreptitiously around the corner and saw that two of
Yildriz’s men were sat outside the door to the Nursery, playing cards, which
were hovering in mid air. Astoria took a deep breath and stepped out into the
corridor, striding toward them with as much confidence as she could muster. At
the sound of her approach, both jumped to their feet and raised their wands,
but lowered them just as quickly when they saw who it was.
 
“Madam Dolohov” Said the wizard to her left, bowing. He was tall, swarthy,
unshaven and had a golden hoop pierced through the top of his right ear.
Astoria recognised him as one of the men who had helped beat and rape Lourdes
Clément to death at Fontainebleau. “Much apologies my lady but none can enter
at this time.” His accent was so heavy that she had to strain her ears in order
to make sense of his words.
 
“I am here to see my son; will you keep a Mother from her child sir?” Astoria
asked coldly, putting every ounce of authority she could muster into her voice.
The wizard looked unsure and glanced at his comrade, a man with a thick black
moustache, who mirrored his expression. Astoria took advantage of their silence
and said silkily, “Or perhaps, you would like to accompany me downstairs to
wake my husband,Antonin Dolohov, and explain to him why you saw fit to defy me.
The hour is very late, but I am sure he will understand, don’t you think?”
 
The wizards shot terrified looks at one another, and as Astoria turned to go –
“No Madam, please, wait!” The first wizard said desperately, his voice riddled
with panic. “You may enter, but you must be being quick.”
 
Astoria felt a twinge of guilt as the wizards watched her on tenterhooks. She
did not derive pleasure from intimidating others, but when it came to her son,
there was nothing she would not do. In any case, these were not good men, well
did she remember how they had jeered and laughed when Lourdes begged for mercy
before she died as they savaged her with those awful iron pokers. “I thank
you.” She said curtly, nodding to each of the wizards in turn as they parted,
and she swept over the threshold.
 
Like the rest of the castle, the Nursery was dark and gloomy, the white frilly
cribs and baby clothes strewn everywhere contrasted oddly with the harsh reds
and blacks of the room. Astoria had only been in here twice or thrice before,
and that was under the watchful eye of her husband, so she did not really have
time to take in her surroundings beforehand. Nurse Clayden was stooped over a
crib, laying Guinevere Yaxley down to sleep, but when she heard the door creak
and beheld Astoria standing there, she gasped. “M- Madam Dolohov… What are you-
”
 
But Astoria interrupted her, she did not have time to explain. “I have come to
see Leo. Please, just let me hold him for a few minutes or so, no one need know
that I was ever here… please?” Her voice was no longer cool and commanding, it
was shaking… pleading.Clayden did not answer but was still staring, petrified
by fear. Astoria felt a stab of annoyance and strode over to the larger crib
next to Guinevere’s, and sure enough, there he was. Leo was wide awake, dressed
in pale blue wool, and he smiled up at her, his arms outstretched. She picked
him up without hesitation and he began to make those sweet innocent baby sounds
as he touched her face with his pudgy hands, delighted to see her again.
Astoria could scarcely believe that it had been over half a year since she had
brought Leo into the world. She proceeded to kiss him all over his face and
stoke his fine golden hair, feeling at peace for the first time in days. After
a few moments of cradling him against her chest, Astoria whispered in his ear,
“Mother loves you, Leo, remember that my darling. Mother will always love you.”
 
As she made to lay him down back into his crib, Leo touched her face. “Ma” He
gurgled, still smiling his sweet smile. Astoria started, unable to believe what
she had just heard. Could it be? No, it was just a sound.But then – “Mama,
Mama!” Tears rushed to her eyes, and she thought that her heart might melt with
emotion. Her precious little baby that she had carried inside her for close to
a year had called her ‘Mama’ for the first time. Astoria did not want to let go
of her son, she wanted to hold him in her arms forever more and keep him safe.
However, in her heart of hearts, she knew this was not to be. She was not a
normalMother; the Father of her child was a ruthless monster who used their
baby as a means to control and instil terror in her with unspoken threats. She
was a Death Eater, and a wife to Antonin Dolohov; a vicious, jealous brute whom
she lived in fear of. All Astoria could do was to try and raise her little boy
to the best of her ability… whenever she was allowed to see him that is.
Finally, Astoria realised that she had been in the room for well over half an
hour by now, far longer than the stipulated time that Yildriz’s men had
intimated to her. Perhaps they were too afraid to burst into the room and start
commanding her as to what she should and should not do. Finally, with an
enormous effort, Astoria gave Leo a final kiss on the forehead and laid him
back down in the crib, gently stoking his face and not bothering to wipe away
the tears now streaming down her own cheeks.
 
Nurse Clayden had finally found her voice. “Madam Dolohov.” She whispered,
shaking like a leaf. “This is taking an awful risk. If your husband learns that
you were here without his leave he will… he-”
“There are no risks that one will not take for one’s children.” Astoria cut in,
sharply. “You will tell no one I was here, no one.Not Rathburne, not Beckwith,
and especially-” She clenched her fists. “Especially, not Master Dolohov. Do I
make myself plain?”
 
“As you – as you say Madam.” Clayden replied, awkwardly. But Astoria did not
trust her reply. As Clayden turned to tuck in a peacefully dozing Delphini in a
large four poster bed, Astoria subtly slipped her wand from her pocket and
asked casually, “Where is Rathburne, for that matter?”
 
“Sleeping Madam, we change duty every eight hours or so, we-” As Clayden turned
around to face her, quick as a flash, Astoria drew her wand and thought,
‘Obliviarte.’ The spell hit Clayden on the forehead and her eyes suddenly
turned dreamy. Astoria had not wiped her memory completely, only making her
forget that she was ever there. She knew she had only minutes and Astoria gave
Leo one last fleeting look, and made for the door which swung open at her
approach. When the two guards looked around, she pointed her wand at each of
them in turn, modifying their memories. As the wizards stood, dumbstruck, she
flew down the passageway as quietly as she could, around the corner, down the
stairs and up the other corridor until she slowly pushed open the door to her
chambers. Mercifully, Antonin was still deep in his drunken slumber as Astoria
tiptoed across the room, shrugging out of the heavy bed robe, taking care to
leave it back on the window seat, before nimbly sliding back into bed next to
her husband. She lay there, thinking. Despite all the darkness and doom she had
witnessed thus far, she was feeling distinctly joyous that her baby boy had
called her ‘Mama’ for the first time ever. Astoria turned over, smiling
slightly into her pillow, and drifted off to sleep.
 
It had been just under a moon’s turn since Astoria’s secret encounter with Leo,
and she had seen him once a week thereafter, this time with Antonin’s leave,
though he would always accompany her, watchful as an eagle as ever. The Death
Eaters had not left the castle since the attack on the Clément family and the
Dark Lord releasing the plague upon France. As his Lordship had so cruelly put
it, they were to: “Lay low while the chaos unfolds, and strike when they least
expect it. Keep them in a constant state of fear.”To be sure, Astoria hated
this foul castle, but she would rather hide behind its walls as opposed to
going out into a world of blood, rape and torture; her bad dreams had still not
abated, and she would feel constantly on edge to the point where she wanted to
break down and cry. The Dark Lord would come and go intermittently, most like
travelling between the countries he had already conquered to oversee what the
relevant armies had accomplished thus far.
 
One such morn when the Dark Lord was absent from the castle, Bellatrix came
striding into the dining hall after breakfast. The platters had not yet been
cleared, the remnants of cold meats, eggs and fruit strewn across the china
plates and the goblets of sweet wine only half filled. She was clutching what
looked like a rolled up paper in her right hand, her expression ecstatic.
Bellatrix unrolled the paper and slammed it down at the head of the table,
panting excitedly. “It has happened!” She said gleefully. “These French
foolsare in a delicious state of panic, we have fulfilled one of the Dark
Lord’s primary aims by instilling fear into their very hearts!”
 
Bellatrix held up the paper to the table at large, a demonic smile upon her
gaunt face. The front page contained photographs of Bellatrix herself,
Rodolphus, Antonin and many others, including… Astoria’s stomach gave a jolt,
her.The title of the paper told her that it was Le Prophète Français, which
Astoria took to mean – The French Prophet. Underneath the title of the paper
there was a header, done in block red capitals above the photos, reading:
DEMANDERE. She knew exactly what this word meant this time; WANTED.Wanted!? I
have been made into a criminal,Astoria thought, despairingly, but then – no,
after everything I have done, I AM a criminal, I did this to myself. Her fellow
Death Eaters were not amused by the French print however. Indeed, Silas
screeched, “I cannot make sense of that French garbage! What does it say, pray
tell?” Bellatrix’s mouth gave an unpleasant twist and she tapped the paper so
that it translated into English. The Death Eaters all leaned forward to study
the front page, triumphant smiles upon every face as they read the headline:
 WANTED – These individuals are wanted for questioning in their involvement of
the brutal murders of the Clément family, who were discovered in the Palace of
Fontainebleau a dozen days ago. Many residents of Fontainebleau town were also
   found dead, and the Ministry is also treating these deaths as murder. All
pictured below and on subsequent pages are either suspected or confirmed Death
Eaters, or else have strong ties to the Dark Wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
   Many are escaped convicts from the British wizard prison, Azkaban. On NO
    ACCOUNT are any of these individuals to be approached. If you suspect a
positive sighting, please send an emergency owl or Patronus to the Ministry of
                             France IMMEADIATELY.
 
Silas gave a delighted cackle when he beheld a picture of himself at the bottom
of the front page, his photographic likeness sneering up at the camera. All the
Death Eaters leant forward eagerly to see who else had made the front page,
when Jugson called, “I have a better solution!” He pointed his wand at the
paper still clutched in Bellatrix’s thin fingers so that a stack of them piled
themselves up in front of her.
 
“Most prudent of you, Jugson.” Bellatrix declared in her harsh voice, her face
flushed with sadistic pleasure. There were many murmurs of excitement as the
papers were passed around, the other Death Eaters exchanging amused looks
between one another, revelling in the fact that they had caused such chaos and
terror among the people of France.
 
For a time, there were no sounds other than the soft flickering of parchment
being turned over as all examined the paper, until Silas broke the silence.
“Look Antonin, Look!” He shrieked, beside himself with barbarous pleasure.
“They have used your Azkaban photograph, the fools!” He gestured at one of the
top pictures upon the front page. Antonin’s prison photograph depicted him in a
windowless, stone walled cell, tossing his identity placard aside, all the
while silently jeering and gesticulating mockingly up from the paper. Silas
leaned forward and asked excitedly, “What – what, is it like in there?” At
Silas’s words, Astoria saw an odd, closed expression pass over Antonin’s face,
and something seemed to flicker in his cold blue eyes… was that, unease?
 
Antonin’s fleeting moment of disquiet was eclipsed almost at once, however, his
satisfied sneer firmly back in place. “Nothing a strong man cannot handle,
Silas. Only the weak give in to such nonsense, you should hear the way some of
those other spineless fools scream and cry at night like women and children.”
He snorted derisively. “Myself, Bellatrix and the others had eight Dementors
guarding each of our cells, all the way up on the top floor in Block X, such
was the Ministry’s fear of us.” Antonin boasted, as Rookwood and Travers
chuckled with prideful gratification. Antonin straightened the French Prophet
to study the other photographs, and turned toward Astoria, leering, as he
tapped at her own picture. “I do not think I have ever seen a prettier ‘Wanted’
photograph in my life, my dear. I daresay they shall want to hunt you down
first!” He shouted to raucous laughter from the surrounding Death Eaters, who
quaffed more wine, despite the early hour.
 
Astoria did not answer, but gave Antonin a swift smile and glanced down at the
paper again to read the ledger under her own picture:
    Astoria Dolohov, née Greengrass – Suspected Death Eater. Suspect in the
  destruction and incendiarism of St. Mary’s Muggle hospital in London, Great
 Britain. Suspected to have participated in the murders of the Clément family.
   May be travelling with her husband, Antonin Dolohov (Left). Last possible
                  sighting on the coast of Northern Holland.
 
Astoria studied her photograph, and was mortified to see how haughty and
arrogant she looked. The Ministry of France had somehow managed to procure her
Hogwarts school picture, where she was clad in silver and green Slytherin House
robes. Astoria was tossing her hair and examining her nails, looking
disdainfully up into the camera with the faintest hint of a sneer playing
around her mouth. Is that truly me?She thought, stunned. Astoria could not be
surprised that they knew about her marriage, it had been widely published in
The Prophet back home after all. Antonin then thrust the paper at her, which
she took to mean that she now had permission to read it. Astoria flipped
through pages and pages containing photographs of confirmed and suspected Death
Eaters now operating under the Dark Lord’s regime in Europe. She noticed that
the French Prophet had also used Hogwarts photographs to identify other Death
Eaters who were closer to her own age. Elizabeth’s photographic likeness
depicted her with her arms folded and looking cold as ever, while Blaise was
lounging on a chair, an arrogant and superior expression upon those handsome
features that he held so dear. Astoria vaguely thought how she used to be fond
of Blaise, but the war had brought out the very worst in him, and he now seemed
determined to outdo his diabolical brother, Josiah. Her dull musing of the
paper eventually brought her to an article about the plague that the Dark Lord
had let loose upon Fontainebleau, and in spite of herself, she began to read:
20th July 2000. Savigny-le-Temple, France. Reporting by Ms. Cassia Bernard.
 A malignant and cataclysmic plague has gripped the Parisian region of France.
  Healers from the central wizarding hospital in Paris, St. Joan of Arc, have
traced the plague back to the town of Fontainebleau after the recent discovery
   of the ruined palace and mutilated remains of the Clément family, widely
  believed to have been murdered by the Dark Wizard who styles himself, ‘Lord
 Voldemort’ and his Death Eaters. Minister Clément’s body was not found among
 the wreckage, and it is suspected that he has been taken hostage by the Death
 Eaters, though no formal demands have yet been made. For more on this story,
                                 see page 22.
   Little is known about this plague, but it is also suspected to have been
  unleashed by Lord Voldemort, and Healers are currently studying its effects
   upon those who have been infected. It appears that Muggles succumb to the
 plague far quicker than wizards. All cases of Muggles who have been infected
   thus far have resulted in death, even with Healer intervention. Far fewer
wizards have been infected, though it would seem the very young, the very old,
 and expectant mothers are most susceptible, with the disease being far slower
    in progression. Around two hundred wizards are languishing in hospitals
fighting this disease, and fifty are known to have died. However, as mentioned
  previously, the mortality rate in Muggles is staggeringly high. Over twenty
  thousand Muggles are have estimated to have died thus far in the short time
that the plague has been released upon French soil, with those numbers expected
to rise. More worryingly still, the plague seems to affect not only humans, but
    also livestock and crops, making them dangerous and inedible, which has
 devastated local food supplies. Many have begun to starve as a result, which
 has appeared to exacerbate the ferocity of the infection on humans, and riots
      have broken out over the lack of food, leading to more people being
  contaminated due to close contact. Healers have exclusively revealed to The
  French Prophet what the warning signs of the infection are through studies
gleaned from Muggle and wizard patients alike and by observing the behaviour of
   livestock. The general onset of the disease usually presents itself with
headaches, high fever, chills, vomiting, and a hacking cough within a few hours
 of being exposed, with many wrongly believing that these symptoms are that of
    common Muggle or wizard influenza. The next stage is characterised with
confusion, bleeding from the orifices, obscured vision, bleeding underneath the
skin and difficulty breathing. When the final stages of the disease take hold,
the skin and flesh mortify, usually turning black and sloughing from the bones.
    Severe delirium is common, and the infected patient may become violent,
 aggressive or exhibit signs of extreme terror as a result of hallucinations
 (seeing and hearing things that are not there) brought on by this rapid onset
 of mental incoherence. Death occurs within hours after these symptoms present
 themselves, and the progression of this disease from start to finish usually
takes a day for Muggles, but can last for up to three days in wizards. Animals
  have also exhibited similar behaviours, and larger species such as bullocks
must be avoided at all costs, as the mental decline associated with the disease
causes them to charge about wildly, therefore giving rise for the creatures to
 inflict potentially fatal injuries on those caught up in their path. Healers
   have described this plague as being ‘The worst ever breakout in European
 history.’ There is a race against time to find a cure or at least contain the
  plague, or Healers fear that its devastating effects will cause a national
crisis. One Healer, who requested that his name not be printed, confided to me:
“I have never seen anything of its like, and I dread to think where we will be
 in another moon’s turn if we are unable to take preventative measures. It is
     highly possible that this plague is airborne, meaning that it can be
  transferred from person to person from close contact, particularly if said
infected person coughs or sneezes within close proximity of others. Muggle and
 wizard hospitals within the region are overflowing with sick patients and are
unable to cope, with some Healers and most Muggle ‘Doctors*’ being struck down
  with the disease. Many Ministry officials are dead or missing, and with our
  dear Minister Clément deposed, the situation is now desperate. There is no
 order, it is total chaos and we are very much on our own here, we have people
  dying in the streets while waiting in packed queue’s outside of hospitals.
 German Ministry Officials have assured us that they will come to our aid, but
 that may take some time. Now that the Dark Order control Poland, the Germans
  have had to send much of their forces to the border where there is terrible
 fighting. In the meantime, what do we do while we wait? I am fearful for the
                      future of our nation, Ms Bernard.”
   Harrowing words indeed, but we must be thankful for wizards such as this
 anonymous Healer who put their lives at risk to help others, and continue to
  thwart the Dark Order’s stranglehold on much of Europe. The Healer has also
   informed me that temporary ‘healing stations’ will be set up in affected
regions where anyone, both Muggle and magical, can attend for treatment. He has
 also set out some general guidelines for temporary management of the plague:
    * If you or a family member exhibits ANY of the aforementioned symptoms
      above, DO NOT HESITATE, seek treatment IMMEDIATELY.
    * Anyone who is suspected to be infected MUST NOT share things such as
      food, water or eating utensils with others.
    * If you have ANY doubts whether any animal or wheat products are
      contaminated, remove them from your home AT ONCE.
    * A calming draft may be helpful in lessening the symptoms of delirium if
      present.
    * If you come across ANY corpses that appear to have signs of the plague,
      DO NOT touch, stay as FAR AWAY as possible.
    * Bubble head charms may be useful in preventing the spread of the disease
      from person to person.
    * If you have been in contact with an infected person, it is STRONGLY
      recommended that you regularly use scouring potions to wash your hands,
      face and body.
    * Any clothes worn while caring for an infected person should be burned,
      IMMEDIATELY.
    * Where possible, use existing disease and infection repellents that have
      been approved by the Ministry of France. (Dragon pox repellent may be of
      use).
 
Wizards and Witches of France, I am aware that the above guidelines are rather
rudimentary, but Healers are working tirelessly to manage this terrible scourge
that is tearing through our country. Here, at the French Prophet, we intend to
keep our fellow countrymen as well informed as possible about what is happening
out there, so keep reading! Do not forget, there is always hope, our hearts go
out to all of those who have been affected by the Dark Order’s attacks on
France, do not despair, Long Live France!
 
* N.B. ‘Doctors’ – Muggle counterparts of Healers.
 
 
Astoria felt a mixture of revulsion and pity as she finished reading the
article, though she could not really be surprised. The Dark Lord was the most
powerful wizard in the world now, and this vile plague was an easier way to
subdue France rather than sustaining heavy losses as he had done so in Poland,
where countless troops had perished from the vicious backlash against the Death
Eaters by the Ministry and wizard residents alike. Antonin was watching her
closely, and he must have noticed the expression on her face when he enquired
sharply, “What is it?”
 
 
Astoria groped for a lie. “This – this, reporter, she used his Lordship’s
namein her article.” She said timidly, pointing to the paper.
 
 
Antonin raised his eyebrows coldly. “Indeed. Well, she is just another one who
will pay for her crimes, unless of course the bitch is struck down by his
Lordship’s plague.” He replied, a sadistic smile twisting his face. Antonin
glanced up at the small moving picture of Ms Bernard and said, “I shall
remember that face. Never fear my love, by the end she will be begging for
death, no matter what.” Antonin was distracted from the paper when Vlad, his
murderous Sea Eagle, came soaring into the hall, and everybody looked up as
Vlad let out a shriek. The creature’s black wings were spread wide as it glided
closer, its lethal talons outstretched, and a letter was clasped in its cruel,
curved beak. Vlad landed on the polished stone table with a clatter, his sharp
talons clacking across the surface as he made his ungainly way toward Antonin
to give him the letter, dropping it in front of him. Before Antonin could start
reading it however, Vlad let out another ominous screech and began beating his
wings wildly, fanning them all with cool air. Antonin let out a sigh and
conjured up a strip of raw, bloody meat and tossed it further up the table
where Vlad fell upon it eagerly, ripping it to shreds. Undoubtedly the vicious
raptor would start gouging out their eyeballs, or else tearing at their faces
if he was not fed. Antonin broke the seal of the letter which was emblazoned
with the Dark Mark and opened it, his cold blue eyes moving from left to right,
the cruel smile upon his twisted face becoming more pronounced as he read
further and further down the parchment. “It seems that the French Prophet is
behind the times.” Antonin announced, when he had scanned over the letter once
again. “The Dark Lord informs me that the Muggle death toll is closer to fifty
thousand rather than twenty.” There was a burst of cruel laughter from the
surrounding Death Eaters, they banged down their goblets upon the table and
stamped their feet, glorying in the news of destruction and death. When the
noise had subsided, Antonin went on triumphantly, “And what is more, the Dark
Lord plans to unleash the giants upon the Eastern French border, so there will
be nowhere for them to run other than Spain where they are unlikely to be
received, disease ridden as they are. We have got them good and trapped. By the
next year, France should be ours!” Antonin seized his goblet of wine and raised
it in the air. “To the Dark Lord!” He bellowed.
 
As one, the Death Eaters imitated him and shouted back, “To the Dark Lord!” And
they all drank deep.
Chapter End Notes
     Shafiq family - Pure Bloods who are part of the 'Sacred Twenty Eight'
     (Canon). I am undecided as to whether they will feature more
     prominently in the story yet... As mentioned before, all material is
     completely new now so I am open to any suggestions/feedback anyone
     may have. Thanks!
***** XXIV. - Wissembourg *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter covers Voldemort's struggle for France and sets the
     scene for some of the tactics that he will use later on in the story.
     Same disclaimer applies
     Warning: graphic material
     Many thanks again to all those who comment/kudos
     S x
Chapter Notes
     Hi everyone, sorry that the chapter is later than expected. I was
     sick and some parts of the chapter had be be rewritten so it's taken
     longer than I thought.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The Dark Lord’s stranglehold on France was tightening with each moon’s turn
that went by like a snake’s murderous coils. It now became a grisly sort of
ritual for the Death Eaters to examine each new copy of the French Prophet and
discuss their crimes with relish, glorying in the death toll that was rising
every day, the forced disappearances and repeated attacks on small towns and
villages. The country was in such a state of chaos that the newspaper only got
the chance to print every few weeks or so. It was said that a few loyal
reporters had continued to write for the paper and were hiding out in a secret
location, possibly aided by the Germans, some of whom had managed to slip into
the country despite the Dark Lord’s defences. Though his Lordship was growing
more powerful in this country than ever before, problems still surfaced. The
people of France were on high alert which made their infiltration of the
country harder, though not impossible. The Germans were also putting up quite a
fight on the French-German border. They can fight,Astoria thought sadly, but I
am doubtful as to whether they will win.The Dark Lord claimed that he had
several blows he intended to deal France to assure him of a victory, though she
did not know what these were. As was his wont, his Lordship never revealed his
plans to them until a week or so beforehand, during which time they were
confined to the castle. The one small ray of light in this dark, desperate
situation was that Astoria was free from Antonin – if only temporarily. The
Dark Lord had commanded him to make for the border and supress the rebellion.
Antonin was to take thirty other Death Eaters and recall the giants from the
mountains and crush the German forces who were causing most of the havoc at the
French border for good and all.
 
 
Such as it was in her husband’s absence, what would seem like small pleasures
to many were practically treasures to Astoria. Things such as sleeping alone in
her bed each night without being woken at all hours by Antonin pulling her legs
apart to lie with her, being free to choose what she wore each day, or else not
having him constantly telling her what to do and frightening her daily with his
erratic temper. But best of all, she got to see her precious Leo every day
without Antonin breathing down her neck. Her baby boy had grown so much, he was
getting heavier every time she picked him up, he could sit up on his own in his
crib now and would regularly call her ‘Mama.’ It would not be long until he
reached his first year, and Astoria felt that the time would have dragged by if
she did not have her Leo for comfort. She would visit him in the early morn
before everyone else rose, as Antonin had left Rowle behind and had clearly
instructed him to watch her closely while he was away. Antonin had put on a
good show of gratitude when the Dark Lord had bestowed the ‘honour’ upon him to
serve at the border, but later that evening he had gotten even drunker than
usual and was incredibly rough with Astoria when he bedded her, so rough that
the bruises on her ribs took almost a dozen days to heal. Astoria suspected
that one or two may be fractured, but Healer Beckwith had gone with Antonin and
his party of Death Eaters, and she did not want to distract Rathburne from
caring for Leo. “You will behave yourself while I am away, wife. If I get so
much of a whisper of anything being amiss it will go very ill for you, and you
will never see my son again.” He had snarled in her ear after spilling his seed
inside her for the sixth time or so on the morn he left. Astoria almost burst
into tears at his last words, almost,only allowing a single one to trickle down
her cheek. At this, Antonin had smiled and brushed it away with his thumb,
delighted at the effect he had produced. Thus, as was her wont, Astoria was
very careful about how she behaved and what she said, even in Antonin’s
absence. Rowle followed her almost everywhere, even to the damned privy, just
to make sure that was where she was really going. Antonin had shrewdly taken
Draco with him to the border, not wanting him to be around her when he was
gone, so Astoria had no one, though she would occasionally talk with Narcissa
after dinnertime. She was very scared for Draco, not only because of the
dangers of the war, but she felt that Antonin may use this campaign as an
excuse to murder him and claim that he had died in battle. Antonin had a
vicious hatred for Draco because he knew how he felt about Astoria, and things
that Antonin Dolohov hated had to go, though he did not dare do anything out in
the open for fear of punishment from the Dark Lord. To be sure, the Malfoys
were at the bottom of the food chain and would most like stay there, but his
Lordship was hesitant to spill too much Pure Blood unless any said witch or
wizard had grievously failed him. There again, the Dark Lord’s behaviour had
become increasingly turbulent – even more so than before, something Astoria did
not think possible. He would explode over the smallest trifles and his rages
were terrible to behold. She remembered when the Dark Lord had killed a House
Elf one eve when the creature informed him that a letter he had been due to
receive appeared to be late. On another occasion he had tortured a low ranking,
Half Blood Death Eater into near insanity after he informed him that he had
lost up to two score men at the border in a surprise attack by the Germans.
Astoria felt that his Lordship had gone completely mad with power seeing as
much of Europe was now under his control… his heightened crazed state made him
even more frightening to be around.
 
 
The remaining Death Eaters at Dracula’s Castle had been commanded to stay in
the shadows for the nonce, and they were mainly sent out in groups of about a
score or so to sack small villages and towns, or to capture and kill prominent
members of French wizarding society, often dumping the bodies in public places
under cover of night so that they would be found the next day. The Dark Lord
had also commanded them to poison local water supplies, ensuring the deaths of
any who managed to escape who had not yet been infected with the plague or
murdered in the raids. Even with the Dark Lord’s vast numbers and weapons, the
cities were still too large to take on, many wizard citizens taking it upon
themselves to use protective charms and spells to defend their own homes and
Muggle homes alike. The first time Astoria had been sent out was two lunar
cycles after Antonin had left, and it had been a dreadful experience. The
campaign had been led by Josiah Zabini who had begged for the ‘honour’, so
Astoria knew it would be brutal, and so it was. They had been commanded to
eliminate the town of Castelnou which was situated deep within the Pyrenees
mountains, not too far from the ruins of Beauxbatons, its protection was poor
with it being so remote, and France simply did not have enough aurors or
Ministry officials to spare. The town had been made up of about four hundred
residents, ranging from the very old to mere babes. Josiah had commanded them
to kill all the men and hang their bodies in trees while the women and children
watched on, wailing and screaming with terror. There had only been one
wizarding family in the town, the Father of the family had attempted to fight
them, and for that, Theodore burned his wife and children alive, forcing the
man to watch while he screamed with malicious laughter. Babies and the
incredibly young were simply tossed off cliffs, their small bodies spattering
on the jagged rocks fifty feet below, but children and elderly were tied to
posts and flogged to death. Younger women however, were tortured with the
Cruciatuscurse until they could barely stand, and they were to be sent to the
border for the use of the male Death Eaters. “…Spare the younger ones. Deny a
man women and wine, and you will have chaos and mutiny in the ranks.” Josiah
had declared when he outlined their commands before they had left. Astoria
shuddered at the memory and fleetingly thought that the whole grisly process
needn’t have been so drawn out if they had just used Aveda Kedavraon them all
rather than subjecting the townsfolk to all that wanton brutality. By the time
they had left with their captives the sky had been darkening, and they had
gotten there early that morn.
 
 
As September dawned, Rowle received a letter from Antonin, Astoria knew the
letter was from him as the ill tempered Vlad had delivered it during luncheon,
and there was also his unmistakeable scrawl upon the surface of the parchment.
Rowle read the letter himself first, then to the table at large. Antonin wrote
that the fighting on the French-German border had now broken out into a full
scale war, and the Dark Lord had commanded them all to join the fight in the
border town of Wissembourg, which they had commandeered as their base, to put
an end to the German backlash for good and all. Astoria privately thought that
the Dark Lord had underestimated the situation, he honestly did not think they
would fight back, or that others would not come to their aid?She did not allow
this thought to enter her mind very often of course, even to think these
thoughts could be dangerous. There were also rumours of a charismatic, top
ranking auror from the German Ministry of Magic who led the initial forces into
France. Henrik Paetzold was his name, and the Dark Lord wanted him found and
killed. “Cut off the head and the body will die!”he had screeched at Antonin
before he and his party had left for the border, “When that fool Paetzold falls
the rest will follow, now GO!”
 
 
“Right I shall have silence now!” Barked Rowle over the chatter, snapping
Astoria out of her troubled thoughts, and all subsided at once. “Jinky!” The
House Elf appeared at his knee and gave her customary curtsy.
 
 
“How is Jinky being of service, good sir?” The House Elf squeaked.
 
 
Rowle tapped the letter with his wand and an identical one appeared at once
next to it. “Take these letters to the Eastern and Western barracks” he said,
brusquely. “Give one to Flint, and the other to Bulstrode. Tell them they are
report to me early this eve.” Astoria knew that Marcus Flint and Jeremy
Bulstrode commanded the three hundred or so Half Bloods who made up the rest of
the Dark Lord’s army. They were not housed in the main castle, however, that
was only for inner circle Death Eaters who were ‘truly pure’ and were therefore
kept in the utmost comfort. Flint and Bulstrode had been given their positions
as they possessed a fair amount of Pure Blood and had proven themselves useful
in battle thus far, Astoria knew. There were rumours that the Dark Lord had
promised them gold and brides if they pleased him, purebrides at that too.
Undoubtedly both wizards had jumped at the chance, for despite their high
ranking positions, they remained very much second class, and a Pure Blood wife
would allow them to mix in aristocratic society, as well as lining their
pockets with the gold, she thought wryly. Rowle then abruptly got to his feet
and stared around at them all. “As for the rest of you, prepare to leave for
the border four days hence. Take as little as possible, or nothing at all, I
for one shall only be taking my wand and the robes on my back. Ladies, bring a
dress or two.” With a curt nod, he spun on his heel and strode from the dining
hall.
 
 
Astoria and her fellow Death Eaters had departed very early on the morn that
they were to travel to the border. When they apparated into the remote, rural
area as commanded, Astoria was almost sick with the horrendous stench that hit
her nose. Thousands of dead cattle and sheep littered the fields surrounding
them, while fields of wheat and barley were blackened and mouldering, surely
making them poisonous and inedible. There was also a lake in the area, it
appeared to be stagnated, and all the fresh water life such as fish and frogs
had floated to the surface, their carcasses putrefying in the early morning
sun. The sky was dark with acrid smoke despite the early hour, and there was a
sense of foreboding in the air. They had been ordered to apparate about a mile
from the Death Eater base on the border, the Dark Lord would not permit the
protective charms around the current combatants to be lifted for a minute, even
for other Death Eaters, so they needs must walk the distance. When they were
scarcely ten minutes into their journey, they came across one of the first
casualties of the brutal siege. A Muggle man was infected with the malignant
plague, and it looked as though he did not have long to live. The man was
completely delirious and conversing wildly with thin air, his teeth chattering
and spittle drooling from his mouth. There were black patches all over his skin
and half of the flesh from his right arm was gone, leaving only bone. Many of
the Death Eaters laughed at the sight of him and he began to scream in terror
and ran away, completely out of his mind. More bodies appeared in the shallow
countryside ditches which were awful to see, but the very worst Astoria saw was
a dead woman. She could not tell if she was Muggle or Magical, but her
condition could not have been more plain. Like the crazed Muggle man they had
come across before, large parts of her flesh were as black as ink, the paler
portions covered in blood bruises, and one of her hands was missing. She was
lying in the ditch with her legs partially spread, and from between them snaked
a pale, rope like object. No, no that was no rope, oh Merlin forgive her, no!It
was a cord,a cord that belonged to the woman’s dead baby lying a foot or so
from her, still attached to its tiny body. Astoria saw despairingly that the
woman had been pretty far along; her belly still looked pregnant and the baby
looked to be fully formed, as bruised and blackened as she was. I doubt that
the child ever drew breath though, poor thing.Astoria wanted to weep, this was
one of the saddest, most heart breaking things she had ever seen. Her fellow
Death Eaters took no notice whatsoever, not even sparing a glance for the
devastating sight. As they drew closer to their destination, she saw many
decaying heads impaled on trees, piles of disease ridden, rotting corpses that
had been set alight, and more smatterings of crazed Muggles infected with the
plague, wandering about aimlessly, muttering to themselves. Astoria knew they
were at their destination when they were all abruptly flung backwards as they
trudged through a hilly area surrounded by trees. Rowle, who had been leading
the group and who alone had managed to stand his ground, held up his left arm
and passed through the magical perimeter freely, the others following suit.
 
 
When Astoria herself passed through, she beheld a truly horrific sight. It
looked as though the town had been completely destroyed, nothing remained
except a large country manor about half a league away, though she did see
pieces of burned debris scattered here and there upon the ground. Yet still
more bodies were piled twenty feet above them, there was a canal to the East
which had flooded because it was choked with dead, befouling the water. There
were numerous barbed wire pens where hundreds of men, women and children wept
and languished, covered in dirt, and in many cases - wounds. They were dressed
in rags and looked so emaciated that she was surprised that they were still
alive, many following the new arrivals with dead, dull eyes. The grass had been
burned to ash and there was nothing but wet mud beneath their feet. Apart from
the prisoners, there was no living thing in sight. The smell was unbelievable;
a mixture of rotting flesh, smoke and human waste hung thick in the air, and
Astoria felt her insides heave and covered her mouth, such was the pungency of
the stench. In the distance, she saw hundreds and hundreds of tents, presumably
where much of the army were housed. She turned her eyes Westward and saw
several giants lumbering about, some of them clutching clubs in their massive
hands, but she could not even hear them as they were so far away. Rowle then
turned to address her, unperturbed by their grim surroundings.
 
“My lady, I have been instructed by your noble husband to take you to him at
once, come with me if you please.” He held out his arm and she took it
dutifully as they both made for the manor house, their boots making sucking
sounds in the sodden mud, dirtying the hems of their robes.
 
When they arrived at the courtyard of the manor, Astoria saw the remains of a
dead man swinging from a tree, he looked as though he had been set alight and
his entrails were spilling out of a long gash in his stomach. There was a
slight wind and his body swayed and twisted, blowing the scent of his corpse
toward them and adding to the foul air. The manor was grand enough, but there
were burn marks up its pale yellow walls and some of the windows had been
smashed. Stumps of trees were everywhere where they had been cut down, and as
Astoria looked up, she saw the Dark Mark swirling malevolently in the sky above
the ravaged remains of the town. Like the exterior of the manor, the interior
retained vestiges of beauty, but no longer. As she took in her surroundings,
she saw that the rooms had once been sumptuously decorated, but there were now
blood spatters up the silken walls, many of the paintings had been slashed
open, several doors were hanging off their hinges, and much of the furniture
had been smashed to pieces. Rowle marched her down several corridors and down a
set of stairs leading under the house, several other Death Eaters in their
wake. They arrived at a splintered wooden door where laughter – and screams –
could be heard.
 
At once a handsome young wizard who was guarding the door blocked their path.
“Afternoon Cousin, I see you are here at last.”
 
Astoria took in the young wizard’s features and knew who he was at once, though
it had been close to three years since she had last glimpsed him. Lancelot
Mulciber, son and heir of the now dead Robert Mulciber who had been killed at
Beauxbatons by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lancelot looked nothing like his Father,
Robert had been dark haired and heavy featured, but his wife had been a Rowle,
and Lancelot had inherited the thick blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and
immense height commonly found within the House. Astoria knew that he had been
campaigning all over Europe after Britain had fallen, and was said to possess,
‘a sense of adventure.’ An odd way to describe destroying entire countries and
committing mass murder.Indeed, Astoria was not fooled by Lancelot’s charming
smile and good looks, those vivid blue eyes of his did not quite disguise the
greed and slyness lurking behind them. This one is more dangerous than many
give him credit for, I’ll wager. 
 
 
“Indeed, I come with precious goods” Rowle smirked, glancing at Astoria. “I
imagine Antonin is in there?” He asked, jerking his head at the door.
 
 
Lancelot returned his cousin’s smirk and nodded, his blue eyes gleaming. “Yes,
he is in session,but you may enter all the same.” He replied, ogling Astoria
hungrily as he stood aside for them. The door creaked open automatically as
they made to step over the threshold.
 
 
The noise that came from the room was louder than Astoria had been expecting,
and it made her jump. There was jeering and wails of anguish, and the air was
thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of drink. Through the haze, Astoria
saw that the room was stark and bare, the only piece of furniture was a
battered wooden desk that looked as though it were about to collapse, and there
were no windows. There was a dead body slumped against the far wall; all the
skin had been peeled from the flesh, though the eyeballs were still intact,
staring sightlessly at the carnage as blood pooled beneath it. It was a
terrible, eerie sight. This was no true room, this is a torture chamber. Some
Death Eaters were leaning against the walls, others sat on crates or boxes, but
all wore the same entertained expression as they watched the sport. Antonin was
in the middle of the room, pacing around a battered wizard who was chained from
the ceiling and hanging upside down, naked but for his undergarments which he
had seemed to have soiled, giving off a revolting smell. Antonin was dressed in
dark breeches, his customary heavy boots – perfect for stamping – and a thin
undervest. His muscular arms were covered in hex marks and he had various
grazes all over his face, but otherwise seemed as fit and strong as ever.
 
“…I am going to ask you again.” Antonin said in his most dangerously soft tone
to the hanging wizard as he puffed on a cigarette, “Where is Henrik Paetzold?
How many men does he command? Where does he plan to strike next?”
 
 
“I know not, I swear I know not!” the wizard replied in a heavy German accent
which was cracked with pain as he thrashed about in his chains. “I never see
Paetzold! Never! Please!”
 
 
“LIAR!” Antonin bellowed at the wizard, making him flinch violently. “One of
your men told me under torture that he glimpsed him two weeks past! TELL THE
TRUTH!” The wizard was now gibbering in German, and it sounded like he was
praying. Yes, praying for death, most like.Antonin huffed in annoyance and
extinguished the lit cigarette onto the wizard’s face as he screamed in pain,
then he pointed his wand at him. “Crucio”  He said in a bored voice. The wizard
screamed even louder and when Astoria looked at his face properly, she saw with
a stab of revulsion that both of his eyes had been gouged out of their sockets.
Merlin only knows how long this poor soul has been down here,she thought,
pityingly, worst of all, he is probably telling the truth. “If you do not
answer me, I am going to cut your bollocks off and feed them to you!” Antonin
suddenly screamed to general laughter from the room. “That picture I found in
your pocket, the one that shows your wife and children, how easy do you think
it would be for us to track them down, when we found the Mudblood Minister in
mere weeks, hmm?” The wizard began to sob as Antonin went on, ruthlessly, “When
I get my hands on that pretty wife of yours, I am going to fuck her.” The
hilarity mounted as the wizard began to kick and scream harder than ever, the
chains around his bloody ankles jangling. “And then, after that, my boys are
going to fuck her, and when we have made your son and daughter watch, I shall
feed those brats alive to a pack of starving wolves!” Antonin continued to
taunt and hex the wizard, but he either could not or would not talk. Frustrated
and enraged, Antonin, slammed his boot into the wizard’s chest, and he vomited
everywhere, the chunks of waste sliding down his face and into his bloody eye
sockets to drip upon the floor as he gasped and choked.
 
 
“Eat it!” Screeched a cold, reedy voice Astoria had no trouble in recognising.
The disfigured face of Silas Norton came looming out of a dark corner, alight
with excitement. He strode over to the wizard and looked down at him
maliciously, “Eat that filth!” Silas shrilled, pointing at the pool of vomit
upon the floor. Antonin laughed as Silas raised his wand toward the wizard’s
chained feet, where he was promptly released and came crashing to the floor
with a howl of pain. Silas forced the wizard onto his knees and ground his boot
into the back of his neck so that his entire face was sprawled in the pool of
sick as he gave a muffled gag, desperate for air, Silas’s mad cackle
reverberating around the room all the while. “You are not eating it properly,
come now you must be starved!” Silas grinned and after a few minutes of this
twisted spectacle, he hissed“Imperio.”Sobbing, the wizard began to scoop up
fistfuls of his own sick, shovelling it into his mouth and retching as all the
Death Eaters laughed derisively.
 
 
The wizard collapsed onto his front again, his ragged breathing causing the
vomit underneath him to bubble sickeningly. “Is he dead?” Antonin asked
casually, surveying the scene with amusement.
 
 
Silas kicked the wizard over and waved his wand. “No.” He replied coldly, “The
filthy worm still lives.”
 
 
“You!” Antonin shouted to Josiah and a group of seated Death Eaters, “Take this
cretin back to the holding pens and feed him so that he does not die, I have
not finished with him just yet. Give a loaf of bread to the other prisoners,
they can fight it out with one another.”
 
 
“At once, Dolohov,” Josiah replied, and he and five others dragged the wizard
out of the room, barely clinging to life and breathing raggedly, his eyeless
face lolling from side to side.
 
 
There was an explosion of chatter and laughter after Josiah slammed the door
behind him, with many of the Death Eaters exchanging gleeful looks. Astoria saw
Theodore talking animatedly to Jugson, Yaxley was so drunk he was swaying
heavily even though he was sitting down, and Avery was roaring with mirth as
Rodolphus whispered something in his ear, grinning. “I have something for you,
Antonin!” Called Rowle through the din, gesturing at Astoria, all the while
keeping a firm grip upon her arm.
 
 
Antonin looked up in their direction for the first time, and his face split
into a lecherous grin. “Ah, my darling wife. Come to me my love.” Antonin
called, stretching out his hand. Astoria prized herself free of Rowle’s grip
and dutifully made her way toward her husband. Without preamble, Antonin
grabbed her and kissed her full on the lips, plunging his tongue down her
throat and grasping at her backside. The heat rose to Astoria’s face as several
of the other wizards in the room let out wolf whistles and catcalls. Antonin
kissed her neck hard, making noises of pleasure in his throat. “Get out.” He
grunted between his kisses, “Get out, all of you.” Many of the surrounding
wizards chortled, some making crude jokes as they filed out of the torture
chamber. When they had gone, Antonin began to rip the robes from her body so
forcefully that he left red marks on her, and did not stop until she was left
clad only in her lingerie. It was a favourite set of his, scarlet silk with
matching lace stockings, which contrasted beautifully with her skin.
“Red.”Antonin panted breathlessly, seemingly unable to articulate proper
sentences as he groped everywhere he could reach. He lifted her off her feet
and placed her on the rickety desk, spreading her legs as the desk creaked
ominously. Astoria had hoped that he would take her lying down, but no, after
he wrenched away her knickers with deliberate force, he coiled a muscular arm
behind her back so that they were face to face as he buried himself up inside
her. “Fuck, I have missed that cunt of yours.” Antonin moaned as he began to
thrust, very hard, grunting like a beast. Astoria willed herself to put on her
best performance, she gasped and squealed, placed her hands on his shoulders
and dug in her nails the way he always liked; all she wanted to do however was
run. She wanted to run and run and never look back; it was even more unpleasant
being taken like this by her husband in a bleak torture chamber that smelled
like blood and death and occupied by a mutilated corpse. Disgusting was not
even the word to describe what they were doing. Upon closer inspection of
Antonin’s face, she saw that three fresh scratch marks adorned his right
temple, and there was no mistaking how he had come by them. A relic from the
latest girl who he has raped and killed, most like,Astoria thought as he pumped
away at her. To spare herself this nauseating sight, she closed her eyes and
moaned, all the while biting her lip – that always stirred Antonin and would
hopefully quicken his release.
 
 
Just as she had predicted, the ordeal was over moment later. It could not have
been more than ten minutes or so, any longer and Astoria thought that she may
have broken down completely. When he was done, Antonin waved his wand so that
she was clad in a matching scarlet silken bed robe, though it exposed half of
her breasts which he leered at. You would think he had never seen them
before,Astoria thought, with mingled exasperation and annoyance. He lifted her
into his arms and strode up the stairs and through the ruined house until they
came to a bedchamber. When Antonin set her down within, Astoria was horrified
to see the state of the bed situated opposite a large, grand window, framed in
gold. Strewn across the sheets there were clumps of long dark hair, some with
pieces of scalp still attached. Dry curls of flesh, human fingernails and even
teeth also littered the bed, the blood stains were everywhere so that there was
scarcely any white sheet to be seen. Antonin’s cut throat shaving razor was on
the pillow, covered in dried blood. There were ripped and torn clothes all over
the floor, and there was a smear of a bloody handprint on the door leading to
the bathing suite. When Astoria had first noticed the scratch marks on Antonin
she knew that whichever girl had given them to him would have paid dearly for
fighting back like that, and here was the grisly proof. She knew from her own
experiences with Antonin and the countless times she had seen him rape other
women in front of her that resisting his attacks would only make him more
violent. He would beat his ‘prey’ as he liked to call them, worse than ever as
opposed to ‘just’ being rough if they merely lay there and cried.
 
 
Antonin must have noticed Astoria’s disquiet, for he glanced at her and
chuckled softly as he beheld the room, a look of the utmost satisfaction upon
his twisted face. “My apologies my lady, it is such a dreadful mess in here, we
have none of those beastly little House Elves and only one maid to serve us in
this dump. Though you must not fear, I can put this right.” He waved his wand
and the clothes on the floor vanished, and the bedsheets looked crisp and clean
with no indication of the horror than had taken place within them. “I have
missed you so very much my sweet. I am most pleased to have you back in my bed
again where you belong.”
 
 
“A wife’s place is beside her husband.” Astoria replied mechanically. “It makes
my heart glad that my Lord husband is pleased.”
 
 
“That is right.” Antonin replied, taking a step toward her and tracing her
collar bones lightly with his fingers, moistening his thin lips. “I had almost
forgotten how lovely you are my darling. Now, where were we?” And he pulled her
to him, grinding the bugle of his arousal into her. Astoria sighed inwardly,
and slid off her bed robe. 
 
 
Dinner was a crowded affair that evening with everyone now in one place. The
manor was large, but only just large enough for them all. Antonin told her that
this was the home of Maurice Baudin, the Mayor of Wissembourg, who was a Half
Blood wizard that had masqueraded as a Muggle for almost fifteen years,
presumably because he enjoyed the position of Mayor so much. Astoria knew that
this would have earned him a prolonged and painful death, and her suspicions
were confirmed when Antonin said, “…That is him out front, I strung him up by
that tree so that he can be food for crows!”
 
 
“I pity the crows having to feast on that filth!” Screeched Silas,
“Masquerading as a Muggle,honestly! What kind of wizard does such a thing, I
ask you?”
 
 
“Like you said Norton, filth”Growled Rookwood in his low rumble, and he spat on
the floor contemptuously before taking a large gulp of wine.
 
 
The meal went on in this fashion for some time, Antonin’s party of Death Eaters
trading gruesome stories with the new arrivals about what they had done thus
far at the border. Astoria understood that their food had been prepared by an
Imperiousedcook, who had been spared for this very purpose when the Death
Eaters had pillaged the manor. There had been several maids in the house but
three had succumbed to the plague and died, some had been killed in the siege
and another had been killed by Lancelot Mulciber when he had raped her; Antonin
claimed that Lancelot had gotten ‘overexcited’ and had broken her neck. Thus,
there was only one maid left now, but Astoria had not yet glimpsed her, and did
not wish to, such was her guilt.
 
 
The after dinner chatter was quelled instantly when Bellatrix came striding
into the room, and Astoria fleetingly wondered where she had been, seeing as
she had been absent from the meal. She is where she always is, at the Dark
Lord’s side. Bellatrix marched up to where she and Antonin were sat, and said
without preamble in her harsh voice, “Dolohov, the Dark Lord commands your
presence. You are to join him in the West wing at once.”
 
 
“Very good, Bellatrix.” Antonin replied, draining his goblet and getting
heavily to his feet.
 
 
As Astoria watched their retreating backs, she felt a twinge of savage
pleasure, wondering if Antonin would return from his audience with the Dark
Lord. After all, those who walked into a room with his Lordship, did not always
walk out. The noise in the hall was restored as soon as the door slammed behind
them, and Astoria’s attention fell upon Elizabeth, who was slurring louder than
anyone else at the table. “I daresay, this place truly is a pigsty, I have
never been in anything of its like in all my years. How fucking long must I
endure this?” She swilled her wine clumsily so that it splashed all over the
table and onto her gown.
 
 
Rowle and several others laughed, but Yaxley was not amused. His brutal face
hardened as his gaze fell upon his drunken wife and his cruel eyes were
narrowed in anger. “Hold your foul tongue wife!” He snapped at her, wrenching
the goblet out of her hand and slamming it down onto the table.
 
 
Elizabeth suddenly grew angry. “My wine! Give me back my wine I want…” But her
voice tailed away into a drunken slur.
 
 
Yaxley grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “When will you
fucking learn to do as I command you?” He snarled at her, now tightening his
grip, his fingers digging deep into the silk of her gown and the flesh beneath.
Everyone at the dinner table was looking at them now.
 
 
“Get. Off. Me!” Elizabeth yelled, struggling to wrench free from her husband’s
iron grip. “Get the fuck off me Corban, I want my wine!”
 
 
But Yaxley had had enough. He let go of her arm and dealt her a vicious blow on
the side of her left cheek. Elizabeth stumbled and almost fell, but she did not
weep or cry out, she merely clutched at the side of her face and glared at her
husband through her heavily bloodshot, grey eyes. Yaxley was shouting
incoherently and began to shake her very hard by the shoulders, and Astoria
glanced around the table to see how the others were receiving this. Most of the
Death Eaters looked amused, but Astoria was surprised to see shock flit across
Adelaide’s normally smooth and arrogant face as she stared at her half brother
chastising his wife. “…Now to bed with, you! Go at once or I swear, you will
pay for this!” Yaxley yelled as he grappled with Elizabeth.
 
 
Astoria then felt a tap on her shoulder and started. She looked up to see Rowle
standing over her. “Time for bed for you as well, I think.” He murmured with an
unpleasant smile. “I shall escort you up there, my lady.”
 
 
When Yaxley saw that Astoria was getting up to leave, he shouted over at Rowle,
“Take this onetoo, Thorefinn, before I fucking kill her!”
 
 
At her husband’s words, Elizabeth wrenched free and spun on her heel, striding
around the dinner table, her head held high, looking neither right nor left.
Astoria could not help being a little impressed, she did not think that she
would have been able to retain such composure if she had gone through such a
thing in front of everyone. She, Rowle and Elizabeth left the room in silence
as they trooped through the hall and up the stairs to their chambers. It
transpired that their chambers were connected to one another by a door,
followed by a small antechamber between them. Rowle ushered them into Yaxley’s
bedchamber nearest the staircase. “We are all going to have some fun with that
maid tonight, so you cannot have her. You are to stay in your chambers and be
ready for your husbands for when they return.” And with that, Rowle slammed the
door and Astoria heard the lock click.
 
 
As soon as he had gone, Elizabeth fell to her knees and wept, her face in her
hands. Astoria was at a loss for what to do. Ordinarily she would comfort
another woman if she was distressed, but this was Elizabeth Nott Yaxley,cool,
curt and aloof Elizabeth who had ruled her group of friends like a Queen at
Hogwarts. Astoria sank into a nearby chair and watched her. When her tears had
subsided a little, Elizabeth looked up. “Do not look at me!” She snapped, but
Astoria did not break her gaze, Elizabeth did not frighten her in the
slightest.
 
 
“Has- has Corban ever done this before?” Astoria asked, tentatively.
 
 
Elizabeth glared at her for a moment, but then the last remnants of her
composure fell, and her shoulders seemed to slump a little. “All the time.” She
whispered, sounding like a scared little girl. The effects of the drink seemed
to have worn off a little and she was speaking more coherently. There was a
short pause. “Does Antonin beat you?”
 
 
“Yes, though he tends to leave my face as he does not want bruises marring my
visage, or so he claims.” She replied, her words laced with bitterness.
 
 
“It is so unfair. I never thought marriage would be this way.” Elizabeth said
miserably, drawing her knees up to her chest. “How do you bear this day after
day?”
 
 
“Of course, it is unfair.” Astoria replied with a sad smile, “We are women. But
during my darkest hours I think of my Leo, I think about the next time I will
hold him and the way he smiles at me. I counsel you to do the same with regard
to your daughter, think about how defenceless she would be without you.”
 
 
Elizabeth nodded, wiping away her tears and getting unsteadily to her feet.
“Corban was so angry when Guinevere was born. He said I had failed in my duty
to give him a son. I do care for her very much, I just find it harder to love
her as fiercely as you love your Leo. After the birth I felt ever so melancholy
every hour of every day and I found Motherhood so… difficult.”
 
 
“They say being a Mother is the hardest thing in the world, so I would imagine
it is harder for some than it is for others. Try and spend more time with
Guinevere, as I say, you are all she has in this world, Elizabeth.”
 
 
More tears leaked from those grey eyes as Elizabeth glanced at a clock on the
mantle, but she did not weep in earnest. “Perhaps we should garb ourselves for
bed, they will not be happy if they come in to find us talking like this.”
Astoria did not need to ask who theywere, and Elizabeth’s notion was a correct
one, she shuddered as to what Antonin and Yaxley would do if they found them
like this and unprepared for bed. “May you undo my clasp, Astoria?”
 
 
“Certainly.” Astoria made her way to Elizabeth who had turned around, and began
to fumble around with the jade and gold clasp at the top of the gown. She was
not used to dressing and undressing herself, let alone anyone else; even
getting ready for dinner had been a most cumbersome task.
 
 
“My thanks, Corban keeps my wand unless we are going out campaigning, so I
cannot use magic to undress, and I doubt I could master those spells in any
case. I would give anything for a House Elf just now.”
 
 
Astoria let out a chuckle and Elizabeth gave her a small smile in return, the
first real smile she had ever seen upon those proud features which served to
increase her beauty tenfold. “I really must take my leave now, good eve to you,
Elizabeth.”
 
 
“And a good eve to you.” She replied, as Astoria turned and made for the
adjoining door.
Chapter End Notes
     I almost cut the Astoria/Elizabeth exchange but I decided to keep it
     as we get to find more out about Elizabeth and I don't know when I'll
     have another chance to put it it in again. I want to point out that
     Elizabeth is not a changed person, she's still arrogant/cruel and
     hates Muggles and Muggleborns etc... I just thought it was
     interesting to show another dynamic of her character as opposed to
     the 'ice queen' side of her we have seen so far.
***** XXV. - At the Border *****
Chapter Summary
     This is probably the longest chapter so far (Just under 8k words)
     Anyone can feel free to let me know if they think it's too long and I
     will avoid this in the future. I think the chapter title pretty much
     speaks for itself :)
     Same disclaimer applies.
     Warning: graphic material
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The residents of Mayor Baudin’s manor were awoken the early the next morn by an
almighty CRASH!That seemed to shake the very stones around them. Astoria woke
with a start and saw Antonin rising from the bed in wrath, his eyes scanning
the room “What in the name of-” He spat, seizing his robes from the floor, but
he was cut off by another tremendous CRASH.This time, the goblet on Antonin’s
bedside table toppled onto the floor and smashed, blood red wine spattering the
cream carpet as he let out a snarl of rage, clenching his fists so hard that
the muscles in his arms flexed. Astoria vaulted out of bed to dress, not
wanting to incite his anger even further. She hastily began to don her
undergarments first as the crashes and bangs reverberated around the manor
every few minutes as though they were coming from the very sky. Something was
clearly very, very wrong here. Minutes later she and Antonin were striding
through the manor alongside the other Death Eaters who had been wrenched out of
sleep by the racket, all of them were robed and armed with their wands.
 
“What is the meaning of this?” Shouted Avery angrily over the noise as they
spilled into the courtyard, conversing rapidly with one another; all with their
voices raised in order to make one another heard over the periodic crashes and
bangs.
 
 
“It is those blasted Germans, I’ll wager.” McNair yelled back contemptuously as
they peered around the bleak landscape, wands raised. As the ground trembled,
the screams and wails of terror from the prisoners in their pens were audible
even from here.
 
 
Suddenly, a dark haired, thick set young wizard apparated in their midst and
took a knee in the mud before them, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Antonin
pushed forward to the front of the group and stood over the wizard, looking
most displeased. “Bulstrode!” He barked. “Explain what the fuck is going on
here!”
 
 
Jeremy Bulstrode raised his chin and looked up into Antonin’s face. “At once
Sir!” He replied. “It is the Germans, Dolohov. They are attempting to break
through the charms we cast around the town after we sacked it.”
 
 
Astoria saw Antonin’s jaw clench in fury and his cold blue eyes swept the
horizon, but there was nothing to be seen. “How many wands?”
 
 
“At least two hundred, Dolohov. It may take them a few hours, but it is highly
likely that they could break through if left unchecked. I have half that number
wands awaiting your command, the rest are further South with the Dark Lord and
Flint. With everyone present, we will have just enough to take them on, but
they will still be more than us… What are your orders?”
 
 
“KILL THEM!”Antonin bellowed as an almighty groan rent the air. The tree which
held the Mayor’s remains splintered and toppled over to smash upon the ground,
twigs and leaves flying everywhere. “KILL THEM ALL!I do not care about
prisoners, I want to see a field of corpses by the time the day is done! Now
GO!” Jeremy gave a nod and a bow before disapparating in a swirl of black
robes. Antonin then turned to the watching Death Eaters, incandescent with
rage. “You heard me, you are to slay each and every one of them! Now, let us go
and teach them what happens to those who dare defy us!” There were roars of
assent over the tumult and faint pops as all turned on the spot to join Jeremy
Bulstrode and his men.
 
 
The din that had pummelled the Death Eater defences around Wissembourg seemed
almost dull compared to the eruption of sound that assaulted Astoria’s ears
when they apparated outside of the base. Witches and wizards were already
locked in combat with one another and there was a great deal of shouting,
screaming and the blasts of noise and colour emanating from hundreds of wands
as curses flew everywhere. There were around half a score of wizards directing
their wands at the invisible shield to the Death Eater base which had caused
all the racket within. They were being protected by just as many of their
fellows as they fought off Death Eaters who were attempting to stop them
breaking through. Astoria saw that Elizabeth was duelling a much older wizard
and she was already losing. The wizard was screaming insults at her as he fired
out hexes indiscriminately, one flying right past her face. Astoria pointed her
wand at the wizard, she did not even need to speak anymore; a burst of green
light flew from her wand tip and the wizard fell with a squelch in the thick
mud, dead.
 
 
Elizabeth caught her eye and nodded her thanks fleetingly, until Astoria heard
someone shriek, “Impedimenta!”and before she knew it, she was flying through
the air before she landed with a dull thud, her wand flying out of her hand.
 
 
Gasping for air, she scrabbled about in the mud and pulled her wand out just in
time as a heavy boot slammed into the ground. Astoria looked up and saw a
wizard of thirty years with a heavily scarred face raise his wand and open his
mouth to deal her another curse. She pushed herself backward on the ground from
him, her robes covered in mud as she retaliated with an expelling hex to break
his neck and remove his bones, but he deflected it and it parried onto one of
his fellows, killing him instantly as his spine was ripped from his body.
 
 
“Filthy Death Eater bitch!” He screamed over the tumult, bearing down upon her,
“When we have defeated you, I shall give you to all of my men who will pass you
around like the whore you are!” His cocky sneer and lecherous jibe made her
think of Antonin, and rage erupted in her then like a volcano as she launched
herself into the wizard’s legs. Her sudden attack had surprised him, causing
him to topple over and fall.
 
 
At once Astoria was upon him, straddling his chest. “Sectumsempra!”She
screamed, brandishing her wand violently as deep slashes marred the wizard’s
already ravaged face, the blood fountaining from the wounds with such force
that it gushed all over her face and into her eyes. Taking advantage of her
split second distraction as she blinked him back into focus, the wizard smacked
her in the face and she reeled sideways, now it was shewho was in the mud as
her head sank downwards through the filth. She stared up into the bloody ruin
of the wizard’s ripped and torn face as the battle raged around them while he
snarled malevolently in German. He was now groping for his wand a few feet
away, attempting to keep Astoria pinned to the ground as she struggled
viciously, unable to point her own wand at him while he bent her wrist back.
Then she remembered the one thing that may be the saving of her. Astoria’s free
hand scrabbled about in the pocket of her robes, searching and searching. Yes,
there.As the wizard snatched up his wand and pointed it directly in her face
with a wicked grin, Astoria plunged the short, silver knife into the side of
his neck. “I am no one’s to pass around.” She hissed in his ear. The wizard’s
eyes seemed to bulge, and he tried to utter, however, nothing but dark blood
poured from his mouth, the bloody gash in his neck pulsed sickeningly as she
drew out the blade, drenching them both. Though he was certain to die now,
Astoria did not hesitate. She plunged the blade in again. And again. And again.
Before she knew it, she was atop the wizard once more, both her hands were
drenched in blood as she stabbed him repeatedly, long after the stink of his
dying met her nose. The wizard had almost been decapitated and his intestines
were spilling from his stomach, such was the ferocity of her attack. Astoria
realised that someone was sobbing, and as the knife slipped from her fingers,
as she sat there, dazed, she realised that the sobs were coming from her own
mouth.
 
 
Astoria wiped away her tears with her bloodstained hands and got to her feet
unsteadily, staring at the carnage surrounding her. It looked as though
moreGerman forces had joined the fight, and the Death Eaters were completely
outnumbered now as there were at least a hundred of these defenders. Terror
tore at her heart, what if we lose? Will I be put to death, or simply on
trial?After apparating to the scene, some of the Germans concealed themselves
in a deep sort of trench she had not noticed before and were firing out curses
before ducking back down behind the walls of earth. Jugson conjured up a
spiked, black, circular looking oddity which began to spin rapidly. He pointed
his wand at the thing, causing it to fly through the air to land straight in
the trench. There was a deafening explosion and the mounds of earth by the
trench rose up into the air like tidal waves. Those closest to the trench were
screaming from horrible burns and blown off limbs, others were completely on
fire, rolling madly upon the ground to try and stem the flames. Deep green
smoke plumed high up in the air as bloody arms, legs, torsos and heads rained
down upon them all, such was the force of Jugson’s exploding device. He grinned
and plunged back into the fight to kill those who had been further away and
were still stunned from his attack after being knocked off their feet. As
Astoria struck down a tall, wiry witch with greying hair who she had been
duelling, she looked around wildly, expecting another attacker to come bursting
out of the wall of combatants, but none came. When she turned to check behind
her, she saw a wizard who had lost his wand attempting to flee from Rookwood,
who had cast some sort of curse upon him so that his flesh bubbled and peeled
as he screamed for mercy. A short distance away, Travers had conjured up a
lethal looking axe which started to chop his enemies to pieces of its own
accord; the defensive jinxes that were fired at it seemed to have no effect
whatsoever and they ricocheted everywhere off the cruel steel, causing utter
chaos. Antonin was laughing as he duelled three at once, none of them were able
to touch him and within minutes they were all blasted into the air, their
bodies smashing like eggs upon impact with the ground as he continued to roar
with mirth.
 
 
The air was suddenly rent with piercing screeches, like an eagle’s, and
instinctively, Astoria jerked her head up to the sky. No, those were no eagles,
they were far bigger and far more dangerous. A score and a half of Hippogriffs
came soaring down toward them, beating their huge wings and snapping their
cruel beaks, their deadly, razor sharp talons outstretched. Worse still, the
Hippogriffs had riders who started to rain down curses upon them all, taking
advantage of their elevated position. Astoria was so shocked by these sudden
appearances that she ducked – too late – as a mounted wizard on Hippogriff as
black as jet flew right at her. The beast’s talons ripped through her robes
with absurd ease and tore the delicate flesh beneath on the back of her
shoulder. Astoria let out a scream of pain that no one could hear over the din
and fell to the ground once again, frantically feeling her shoulder to see how
much damage had been done. When she drew her hand back in front of her it was
an even deeper scarlet with fresh blood and she was in exquisite pain from the
wound. She staggered to her feet and took aim at the wizard who had flown
around in an arc and was now wheeling back toward her, shouting curses as his
mount shrieked in unison with him, ready for a second attack. 
 
 
"Expulso!”she yelled. The spell hit the wizard directly in the head, which
exploded, his brains flying everywhere. The only remnants of his skull left
were the lower portion of his jaw; his tongue still attached and many of his
teeth still intact.
 
 
The Hippogriff was thrown off balance as the wizard’s headless corpse slid to
one side, still mounted in the saddle. The beast spiralled towards the ground
and hit it with an almighty thud, mud splattering all over the place as it
rolled one, two, three, four times as its wings broke and the dead rider
beneath it was crushed by its sheer weight. The Hippogriff’s back legs were
broken, its neck was tangled up in the reins and it was thrashing about in
abject pain on the ground, covered in dirt and blood. Many of its beautiful
long feathers were scattered all around, with some flying in the air. Astoria
moved forward cautiously, scanning the sky briefly just to be sure that it was
safe to do so, and it seemed that it was. Many of the riders were now occupied
with whole groups of Death Eaters who were battling furiously to bring the
remaining Hippogriffs down. She caught a glimpse of Avery through the crush of
people, and he had a nasty slash across his forehead. She moved even closer to
the distressed creature to put the poor thing out of its misery for good and
all. Being careful to avoid its dangerously flailing limbs, Astoria pointed her
wand at the Hippogriff. It was over in a second. There was a flash of green
light as the creature gave a final screech before lying still and silent on the
mud sodden ground.
 
 
The battle had been raging for hours with the additional German forces that had
joined the fight to assist their countrymen. The dead were everywhere, both
Death Eaters and German defenders alike, most bearing horrible injuries.
Astoria saw one dead witch who looked as though she had died in the act of
trying to push her entrails back into her stomach and many of the German forces
had been beheaded by Travers’ axe. The Hippogriffs and their riders had been
slain too, the paltry few that had survived were now long fled. Astoria did not
know how much longer she could endure this without collapsing, she had never
duelled for this long and on this scale before. Her reactions were becoming
slower and once or twice she almost paid with her life. She could see some of
the others such as Theodore and Adelaide who looked as though they were growing
tired as well. Hardened Death Eaters such as Antonin, Travers, Snape and their
ilk showed no signs of relenting, and looked as if they could fight until the
sun went down and beyond. Then there were shouts, and the duelling ceased
somewhat, with many witches and wizards pointing Southward at what appeared to
be a large, black cloud in the sky. Even the Death Eaters paused in spite of
themselves to stare as the cloud drew nearer and nearer at a rapid pace. A
curse suddenly flew out of nowhere, from friend or foe Astoria knew not, but it
served for the battle recommence at once in a kind of explosion. Snape blasted
aside every opponent that ran at him, Rowle foolishly fired out curses
everywhere, as was his wont, and Astoria found herself duelling next to Blaise
as two wizards sent jets of green light at them both. They both responded in
kind, and as the killing curses collided with one another, there was a great
shower of molten green sparks that scorched the ground below, obscuring their
vision, but neither wavered in their attack. Astoria heard something heavy fall
to the ground and knew that at least one of the wizards had been hit, she
raised her wand to finish the other, but the sky had darkened and a chill that
went to her very bones began to steel over her. There was only one thing that
could produce such a feeling.
 
 
Slowly, she raised her head to the sky and gave a gasp of shock, for she had
never before seen such a sight. The ‘black cloud’ was no cloud at all, but a
hoard of hundreds and hundreds of Dementors with many Vampires teeming in their
midst. At the head of this grim party was the Dark Lord himself, flying like
smoke on the wind with neither broom nor Thestral to support him, his livid red
eyes discernible even from here. There were cries of triumph from the Death
Eaters as they beheld their Master, and Josiah blasted the Dark Mark into the
sky.
 
 
Astoria saw his Lordship’s cruel mouth move, and his high cold voice which was
magically magnified, tore through the air as he screamed, “Attack! Kill them!
Spare no one!”
 
 
Dracula then swooped out of nowhere with his fangs bared, his sharp nails
outstretched toward a young witch. The witch foolishly sent out killing curses
which went straight through the Vampire, and in the blink of an eye he was atop
her, ripping out her throat. Several witches and wizards had grouped together
to repel the Dementors by casting Patronuses, which seemed to be working in the
main, but Astoria could see some of the animals starting to flicker, and the
Death Eaters pressed their advantage by striking them in the back with killing
curses. The Dark Lord was not fighting at all, he was circling in the sky,
surveying the scene of death and destruction, and Astoria could see that he was
smiling. Her vision of his Lordship was obscured when she ducked down to avoid
a jet of orange light that had been intended for Silas, who was duelling a few
feet away. Then the ground began to tremble violently, and Astoria spun around
to see a pack of giants charging towards them, as they let out guttural, blood
chilling roars and swung their enormous, spiked clubs. At once the giants
started to attack the German forces with savage ferocity as the Death Eaters
scattered. Groups and groups of other Death Eaters were now apparating to the
scene to hurl themselves into the battle, most prominent among them were
Bellatrix, Greyback, Marcus Flint and Minister Yildriz, all leading their own
fighters. Astoria had barely a few moments notice as heavy footfalls rattled
her very bones, she wheeled around just in time to see a giant running in her
direction, roaring words she could not understand. She flung herself aside into
a pile of stinking corpses as a massive foot slammed upon the ground where she
had been standing. The giant, at least twenty feet tall, bent over and seized
the wizard who Silas had been duelling. Astoria heard the wizard’s bones crunch
as the giant held him in a massive fist, raising him higher and higher into the
air as he screamed for his Mother. The giant then tore the wizard in half with
absurd ease, as though he were merely tearing a piece of parchment in two.
Droplets of blood showered all in the vicinity, Astoria repelled the blood with
her wand, but Silas gave a scream of triumph and raised his head to the sky,
allowing the blood to rain down upon him, cackling like a demon. Hestia and
Bellatrix were side by side duelling half a dozen wizards, Bellatrix was
shrieking with mad laughter, while Hestia was cold and intent as their wands
slashed through the air like swords. There seemed to be barely any German
combatants left now, and there was a definite dip in the noise in comparison to
before. There were no longer screams, shouts and the bangs from duelling, there
were the triumphant shouts of the Death Eaters and the moans of the dying. Many
Death Eaters were now slumped on the floor, exhausted. Some leaned upon their
fellows, while others examined one another’s injuries, a sure sign that the
battle was won. Astoria merely stood there, gazing at the scene.
 
 
Minister Yildriz and his men had subdued a score of witches and wizards, with
the witches only making up six of the group. One such witch flung herself upon
the ground at Yildriz’s feet, sobbing. “Mercy! Mercy please!Our wands our
yours, we surrender!” Her fellows were yelling at her in German, clearly
dissenting and wishing to stay defiant until the end.
 
 
Yildriz threw back his head and laughed cruelly “Mercy?”He sneered. “The Dark
Lord warned you what would happen if you tried to fight us, do you not remember
the letter he sent to your pathetic German Minister? The countries he has
conquered thus far? His Lordship told you, he warnedyou what would happen, yet
you did not join the cause. You deluded fools forsook any mercy when you took
up arms against us!” He bent slightly and spat in the witch’s face before
taking a step backward, his expression disdainful as if she were something
filthy on the bottom of his boot.
 
 
The witch had not attempted to wipe the spittle from her face, she merely knelt
in the mud, trembling and terrified as the Dark Lord came gliding down from the
sky, looking as fluid and graceful as a slithering snake. He landed lightly
upon the ground, his black robes swirling, staring at the captives with those
pitiless red eyes. “I have little to add to what Yildriz has imparted to you.”
He announced in that cruel, clear voice. “You are all going to find out what
happens to those who continue to fight Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters!”
The Dark Lord slashed the air with his wand and the survivors were bound to
wooden stakes that were driven into the ground. The Dark Lord nodded to
Yildriz, who conjured up buckets and buckets of a dark looking, oily liquid.
His men marched forward and began to tip the contents of each bucket over each
captive’s head so that they coughed and spluttered. One wizard was struggling
fiercely and was spewing indistinguishable insults, so the Dark Lord commanded
the giants to tear him to pieces. He was the lucky one Astoria thought
grimly,when she saw what was at the base of each stake, and knew what was
coming. Indeed, the Dark Lord went on to say, “This substance will make your…
experience last far longer, hours perhaps, I am yet to experiment with it thus
far… until now.” The Dark Lord’s serpentine face then twisted in a terrible
grin, “Incendio!”He screeched. One by one the captives were set alight, and as
the flames licked up the kindling that had appeared below them and made contact
with their flesh, they began to scream. Long, drawn out, bloodcurdling screams
that seemed to go on and on forever. This was the most humiliating death for
any witch or wizard alive, to be burned at the stake. They screamed and
screamed as the smell of their sizzled flesh hung in the air as they were
burned alive, acrid smoke twisting and coiling in the dim afternoon light.
Mingled with the screams was the Dark Lord’s maniacal laughter, and he could
not seem to stop laughing as his robes billowed around him from the rush of the
flames and he watched his victims howl in pain. The giants roared incoherently
and brandished their clubs, the Dementors and Vampires swirled about
malevolently while the Death Eaters shot jets of light into the air to mark
their victory.
 
 
By the time sundown came, there were no longer screams. It seemed as though the
Dark Lord’s ‘substance’ had produced the desired effect. The captives had gone
quiet after some hours, and all that remained of their bodies were blackened
bones and ash. After the last smouldering flames had gone out, the Dark Lord
had commanded them to destroy any wands they found on or around the bodies of
the rest of the Germans, and decreed that their corpses were to be fed to the
giants. Astoria felt the bile rise in her throat as she saw a giant who was now
sitting down by a pile of bodies grab one body and bite its head clean off with
crooked, brown teeth as large as tombstones. Other giants shoved the bodies
straight into their mouths, chewing noisily as bones cracked and crunched in
their mouths and blood dribbled down their chins. It was a truly disgusting
sight, the foul beasts tore off limbs as though they were petals from a flower,
such was their strength. She turned her face away in revulsion from the sight
of Greyback and some of his Werewolves violating the corpses of the dead
witches, grunting and panting with excitement as they ground themselves into
the dead, lifeless flesh. Astoria saw Elizabeth staring at them, transfixed
with disgust, but the other Death Eaters paid Greyback or his pack any mind as
they continued to search through the field of the dead, checking for wands and
gathering up the bodies of Death Eaters who had perished in the battle. The
death toll to the Dark Lord’s forces was fifty; mainly Half Bloods who served
under Flint and Bulstrode, though there were a few Werewolves, but only one
Pure Blood. Vincent Crabbe had been killed; Rosier and Lyle Nott had found his
body some distance away, indicating he may have been hurled through the air and
died on impact. Half of Crabbe’s right arm was gone, and Astoria saw that he
had a nasty slash across his fleshy stomach when they presented his body to his
Father, Jasper.
 
 
Jasper Crabbe raged and cursed, swearing bloody revenge as his son’s eyes
stared sightlessly up into the darkening sky. “He died serving the Dark Lord,
there can be no higher honour.” Bellatrix cut in harshly through his tirade.
There were murmurs of assent and many glanced at the Dark Lord himself who was
pacing back and forth some way away, Nagini draped around his shoulders,
indifferent to the grief of one of his longest serving followers.
 
 
Astoria was relieved when the Dark Lord commanded them to return to the manor;
she desperately wanted to bathe seeing as she was covered from head to foot in
mud… and blood. Undoubtedly Antonin would want her looking and smelling sweet,
so this was something she should be granted in due course. There again, none of
them were permitted to do anything until the Dark Lord had formally dismissed
them. When they apparated back to the manor however, all the wounded were
commanded to go to Healer Beckwith who had been set up in one of the larger
drawing rooms with some beds and Healing potions. Due to Antonin’s position in
the inner circle of Death Eaters, as his wife, Astoria was entitled to visit
Beckwith first. Unfortunately, by the laws of matrimonium coactusunder which
they had been wed,Astoria was also Antonin’s personal property. Thus, any
potential Healing decisions that may have to be made would be for him to decide
as he had complete ownership over her body. Therefore, he was required to
accompany her while Beckwith examined her injuries. As she stepped into the
large, once grand drawing room, Beckwith gave a start, his eyes darting
nervously from her to Antonin while his hands twisted over one another to
conceal his shaking. Astoria thought he looked dreadful. He was considerably
thinner; his dirty blonde hair was dull and unwashed and there were dark
circles underneath his eyes. “M-Madam Dolohov, how may I be of assistance?”
Beckwith asked, springing to his feet at once and bowing.
 
 
“It is my shoulder, Beckwith. I was slashed by a Hippogriff in the battle.”
Astoria answered, turning slightly and gesturing at her torn, blood sodden
robes.
 
 
Beckwith swallowed hard, looking terrified as he addressed Antonin who was
standing behind her. “The lady will need to undress for me to evaluate this
properly.”
 
 
Astoria glanced back nervously at Antonin who merely gave a curt nod in
response, and she tentatively pulled her robes over her head to puddle on the
floor. At this, he let out a hiss of fury and came striding over, standing so
close behind her that she could feel his rapid breathing upon her neck. “What a
fucking mess.” He snarled, and Astoria could almost feel his cold blue eyes
studying the slash on her shoulder. “This had best not leave a scar Beckwith,
or I swear, I shall make your dying last a moon’s turn!”
 
 
Beckwith went as pale as milk and came hurrying over to look for himself. “N-No
Master D-Dolohov, there should be no scarring if I act quickly. Some Calendula
first and then some Dittany, after which I shall seal the wound and-”
 
 
“Get on with it then.” Antonin sneered.
 
 
“Of course – of course, at once Master Dolohov.” Beckwith babbled. “If you
would lie face down upon the sheets Madam, I can attend to your shoulder.”
 
 
Astoria obeyed. She heard Beckwith bustling about in his potions counter while
Antonin watched her through narrowed eyes. Beckwith’s touch was light and
gentle as he warned her that the Calendula may sting, but that did not prepare
her for the line of fire that scorched the open wound as he dripped the potion
onto the raw flesh. It was all she could do not to scream as she knew that
would irritate Antonin, so she bit her tongue and gripped the sheets as hard as
she could with her bloodied hands while Beckwith worked away. She had been
through worse pain than this after all; no wound or curse could compare to the
agony of giving birth. When Beckwith had finished his remonstrations, Astoria
felt slightly better now that the wound had been sealed, though it still
prickled uncomfortably.
 
 
Antonin ordered Beckwith out of the room and performed his familiar charm to
clad her in a bed robe and conceal her modesty, which she found ridiculous
seeing as Antonin had allowed six of the inner circle to watch as he stripped
her naked and bedded her back at Dracula’s Castle. Antonin was nothing if
unpredictable in his actions, however. It was, in part, what made him so scary.
“You look vile.” Antonin growled in her ear as he marched her through the
various corridors to their chambers.
 
 
“I am sorry to have displeased my Lord husband.” Astoria replied meekly, hating
herself. “I will make myself more pleasing to your eye until you are satisfied
with my appearance.”
 
 
“You shall” he said, viciously, tightening his grip on her arm.
 
 
When they arrived back in their chambers Astoria heard the awful sounds of
Elizabeth crying as Yaxley took his pleasure in the adjoining bedchamber.
Antonin gave an annoyed grunt and pointed his wand at the door and performed a
silencing charm, the noise subsiding at once. Astoria saw her reflection in a
gilded mirror mounted on the adjacent wall and flinched. Like her hands, her
entire face and most of her hair was covered in dried blood, not a single scrap
of her golden skin to be seen, her lilac eyes looking even more vivid than
usual as they blinked out of the mess. The blood had also run down the front of
her chest and shoulders because there had been so much of it, the frozen red
rivers stopping short of the top of her breasts. There was mud everywhere and
like the blood, it had dried, matting into her hair and cracking on the left
side of her face where it had spattered all those hours ago. Beneath all the
red, Astoria could see that she was covered in hex marks, and each one was now
throbbing horribly.
 
 
“Not a pretty sight.” Antonin said icily as he stepped forward to rip the bed
robe off her body, so that she was only clad in her undergarments. He threw it
aside and began to circle her, eyeing her critically. “Not pretty at all.” She
felt a twinge of anger at his words; Antonin scarcely looked better than she
did. His face was covered in soot stains, dust littered his hair and there was
a deep cut that came from his ear down to his neck. “Time to get you beautiful
again, I think. Where is that accursed maid? Clara! Clara! Get in here!”
Antonin shouted, and Astoria got her first glimpse of the only surviving maid
from the manor as a witch apparated right in front of them. She was young and
slender with dark eyes and brown hair, though she looked drawn and two black
eyes marred her face. Astoria was disgusted to see that someone had carved the
words ‘SLUT’on the back of her right hand. Undoubtedly the poor girl was
littered with injuries beneath her robes if she had been left to the mercy of
the male Death Eaters.
 
 
“Master Dolohov.” She said in a dead voice as she curtsied respectfully, not
daring to make eye contact. “How- how might I be of service?”
 
 
Antonin smirked. “I want my wife to look perfect this eve, do you understand
me, girl? Perfect.” He smiled unpleasantly as he brushed the girl’s cheek and
she flinched. “Who knows, if you please me I might just pay you another little
visit tonight.”  
 
 
“At- at once, M-master Dolohov, I shall attend to this with haste.” She
replied, her voice trembling with terror. Antonin gave her a lecherous wink
before spinning on his heel and striding from the room, the door slamming
behind him.
 
 
Clara the maid had conjured up a tray that bore all a lady’s essentials for
bathing; sweet oils, fruit infused cleansers and several brushes and combs. Her
hands were shaking so badly though that she dropped the tray, its contents
flying everywhere. The girl burst into terrified sobs as she scrabbled about on
the carpet trying to gather everything up. “Pardons my lady, pardons!” She
wept, shaking worse than ever.
 
 
Astoria dropped to her knees to try and comfort the girl, but she cringed away
as though she feared she would be struck. “It is quite alright.” She replied
quietly. “I am very sorry that he hurt you.” This apparently, was quite the
wrong thing to say, it seemed. At Astoria’s words Clara flung herself upon the
floor and wept harder than ever, beating the carpet with her fists.
 
 
Mixed in with her pity, Astoria started to panic. Antonin had only put a
silencing charm on the entrance to Yaxley’s bedchamber, not their own, and she
was terrified that someone, maybe even Antonin himself, would hear and demand
to know what was going on. There would be dire retribution for them both if
they were discovered like this; Clara for not doing as she was commanded and
Astoria herself for not ‘chastising’ her. “Please,ah… Clara, you must make
haste to the task at hand, my husband will be enraged if I am not ready for
him, which bodes incredibly ill – for the bothof us.” She whispered urgently,
now terrified.
 
 
Clara raised her bruised and tearstained face to look at Astoria. Slowly,
tremulously she nodded. “Of course, my lady, I – I forgot myself, many pardons
to you. I will draw a bath at once.” She said thickly, tears still leaking from
those dark eyes which were a little less fearful now. As they were making for
the bathing suite on the other side of the room, Astoria grasped the girl’s
shoulder lightly, hoping that she could give some comfort to the poor creature
amidst all this darkness.
 
 
The warfare had raged on for close to three lunar cycles since Astoria had
arrived at the base of Wissembourg. Most days there would be some sort of
attack from the Germans, so there was hardly any time to rest; the Dark Lord
was unrelenting and insisted that they subdue the rebels as quickly as
possible. There had been many occasions when the Death Eaters were not
permitted to return to the manor back at the base, but instead had to camp out
in tents in case of another attack so that they would be ready to fight
immediately. Astoria had seen many more ‘torture sessions’ like the one she had
walked in on when she had first arrived. Those who survived the attacks were
dragged back to the manor and subjected to horrific torture to extract
information on the mysterious German commander Henrik Paetzold, who had still
not been caught. Astoria remembered with vivid intensity how Silas had
slathered a wizard in honey after hours of torment and locked him in an iron
case that contained a dozen giant rats that ate the man alive. She could still
hear him screaming now. Or else another time when the Lestrange brothers
deliberately set a witch free, telling her that if she managed to escape then
they would not pursue her. The witch had been so desperate that she had ran,
she had been in the chamber for over a day; glass had been gouged into her back
and her left arm had been smashed to ruins so badly that bone was sticking out
of her elbow. Naturally the brothers had lied, and this was nothing more than a
cruel jape. When they eventually caught the witch, she was raped by all the
male Death Eaters and Rodolphus had commanded that she be lowered, inch by inch
by the hour, into a vat of acidic potion that melted her flesh and bones alike
into a sludgy mess. She had taken almost a day to die. No matter how much the
German forces were tortured, however, none of them had any useful information
regarding Paetzold, not even with the application of Legilimency. If you
confide your plans to no one, no one can betray you, Astoria thought grimly as
she watched countless witches and wizards swear that they knew nothing as they
begged for mercy. The only one who even came close to anything by way of a
capture was Rowle. He and a dozen others had found themselves surrounded during
a fight that had broken out in the border region of Alsace. Even with other
Death Eaters, Astoria included, they had been outnumbered. Rowle had commanded
his men to take down Paetzold, who Astoria recognised from the photo they had
all been shown. Tall, dark and fierce, the young man’s forces had forced
Rowle’s own backwards, and in the end, they had all had to disapparate and
flee. When they had returned to the manor that eve, the Dark Lord had been most
displeased with their failure. He had tortured Rowle for hours after he gave
him the news of the defeat. Astoria had fled the scene with the others as the
Dark Lord fired out lethal curses everywhere as he screamed and screamed with
fury.
 
 
The relentless German attacks had made the Dark Lord even more unstable and
erratic, and he would often fly into these black rages. Out of the four hundred
or so wands the army had been when they arrived, they had lost around one
hundred and fifty, which did not please his Lordship. Such was his fury and
frustration, he had commanded Dracula to bring forth two of the dragons that
resided in the mountains surrounding his castle. Astoria privately thought that
this was utter madness. Even with the use of Dark magic, dragons could never be
fully controlled, nor tamed. Nevertheless, the Dark Lord had unleashed them
upon the border all the same. The two dragons were not as large as the
Vipertooth, but were fearsome beasts all the same. One was brightest green, the
other was deepest red, and they had insatiable appetites. The dragons were fed
up to four times a day; even the hundreds and hundreds of witches and wizards
that were exterminated by Dragonflame could not seem to sate them, so they were
fed dead cattle that had perished from the plague. Despite Astoria’s
misgivings, the use of the dragons upon his Lordship’s enemies seemed to have
worked in the main. The Germans had brought in Dragon Slayers, but they had
been unsuccessful, and as a result, their attacks became fewer and fewer. The
Death Eaters main duties now were to patrol up and down the border on the
lookout for enemies in groups of five or so. Though this was lighter work it
was by no means any more pleasant. Scarcely a day went by when Astoria did not
come across bloody remains that had not been claimed by the giants or the
dragons. The Dark Lord had commanded them all to impale the mutilated bodies of
German rebels upon spikes near the border so as to instil fear within their
fellows, and as far as Astoria could see, it had produced the desired effect.
Thousands and thousands of corpses there were, flies and maggots invading their
stinking dead flesh as it sloughed from their bones, while rabid crows tore out
eyeballs and plague infested wolves tore them to shreds. Almost all of the
German forces had now fled, terrified at the potential fates that awaited them
should they be captured. Astoria was sick of it all, sick of all the blood and
death that constantly surrounded her, sick of the screams of raped women and
tortured men and sick of the self loathing that coursed through her every day.
Worst of all though, she missed Leo so badly that she would often cry silently
into her pillow after Antonin had fallen asleep, something that she had not
done since the early days of their marriage. She had missed Leo’s name day too,
he was now a year old and she wondered if he would even remember her when she
held him once again. When would this be over? 
 
 
It had been a moon’s turn since the last German attack on the border which had
been poorly organised and was crushed in less than an hour. The Dark Lord was
in high spirits and one morn he commanded the entire army to join him just
outside of the base along the main border. When they apparated to the commanded
location, the Dark Lord was standing on a raised black stone plinth so that he
looked down upon them all. All were jostling for position and there was a great
deal of noise as the Dark Lord stared out into the distance, rolling his wand
between his long, white fingers as Dementors swirled in the sky above him.
 
 
Without warning he pointed his wand at his throat and screeched “Silence!”his
voice magically magnified once again, and everyone froze as though struck dumb.
“I declare this campaign at the border a success. The magical protection put in
place by those witless Germans is gone, and nothing will stop Lord Voldemort
and his Death Eaters now! Watch!”He screamed, and he pointed his wand Westward.
At once, a wall of blue flame shot both Eastward and Westward up the border,
the flames dancing fifty feet in the air, scalding hot, rushing wind emanating
from them and stretching out into the distance as far as the eye could see. The
Dark Lord’s maniacal laughter seemed to come from the very sky as he stood
above them, overjoyed with his victory as he continued to laugh and laugh.
There was an upswing of gloating laughter and shouts from the surrounding Death
Eaters, with some applauding and punching the air in triumph. When the Dark
Lord regained control he spoke again, “See what happens to those fools who
attempt to pass through now!” He snapped his fingers and five black crows
soared toward the wall of fire. One by one the crows exploded as they tried to
fly through, feathers and entrails flying everywhere. The Dark Lord screamed
with malicious laughter at the sight and turned back to his army, “You are all
dismissed, save for my inner circle who are to remain.”Astoria heard faint pops
crackling through the air as the rest of the army disapparated. The Dark Lord’s
plinth was slowly sinking lower and lower to the ground and when it disappeared
into the mud, he swept over to Astoria and the remaining Death Eaters, staring
around at them all. “Now, we are to return to the manor.” The Dark Lord
declared, his voice returned to normal volume, though it was as high and cold
as ever. “You shall all attend me to the West wing, forthwith, there are
matters of import I must impart to you.” He spun around on the spot, his long
robes billowing as he disapparated.
 
 
All the Death Eaters followed suit, appearing on a large landing that branched
off in different directions. They tramped through the manor toward the West
wing, everyone murmuring with excited anticipation about what the Dark Lord was
going to share with them. They finally came to a door that was steeped in gloom
and swung open at their approach. As they stepped into the room, Astoria
realised that it was in fact, a solar. It was evident that the Dark Lord had
imposed his personality on the place. All the curtains were drawn; the only
light came from the fire sconces set into the wall and a gargantuan green and
silver Slytherin banner done in silk hung from the Western wall. Potions and
poisons were everywhere, ancient looking books were stacked on shelves and
Astoria saw a blackened, shrivelled human hand submerged in bubbling green
liquid. On the Eastern wall there was an enormous map of Europe projected on
its surface that glowed green. Each country that the Dark Lord had conquered
had been blacked out with a small likeness of the Dark Mark emblazoned over it.
Astoria could faintly see dusty spots where artwork in the room had been taken
down, and most likely destroyed, leaving the walls blank and stark. She faintly
heard the sounds of Nagini hissing, but she could not see the snake, and
glanced down nervously for fear of stepping on the venomous creature in the
half darkness. The Dark Lord was seated behind a desk in an elaborately carved
chair, his chalk white skin shining out of the gloom, Bellatrix standing to his
left. He waved his wand and the map of Europe was now replaced with a single,
enormous map of France.
 
 
He looked up at them all with those evil, cat like eyes of his to address them,
“I am pleased with what has been achieved here.” Announced the Dark Lord in his
high, cold voice. “However, the losses I have sustained are more than I care to
think about. Therefore, I have decided that the time has come to put another of
my plans into place which will bring me a step closer to victory. I shall be
calling upon an old friend who is known to many of you from the First Uprising
and whose loyalty to the Dark Order has never wavered.” The Dark Lord turned
his scarlet gaze upon Bellatrix. “Show them, Bella.” He hissed softly, his
lipless mouth curving into a terrible smile. Bellatrix grinned back at her
beloved Master, and quick as a flash, she drew out her curved, black throwing
dagger in the likeness of a snake. She drew back her arm and flung it as hard
as she could in the direction of the enormous map, and it spun end over end,
blindingly fast to land with a thud, quivering in the wall. Many of the Death
Eaters laughed softly when they saw where it had landed, but Astoria was filled
with dread. The knife had hit a spot on the Southern coast, and the location
was marked in burning black letters:  CHÂTEAU DE L’ENFER PRISON, CALANQUE DE
L’ESCU, FRANCE.
Chapter End Notes
     So I want to point out that Astoria isn't losing her mind after she
     killed the wizard in the first battle, she's just very traumatised by
     everything she's been through so far. I also wanted to bring back
     some of her 'fire' and even though it's kill-or-be-killed, I thought
     it was interesting to show that this is the first time she has ever
     killed out of anger.
     I wrote this chapter because I didn't want too make it 'too easy' for
     Lord V to win the battle for the border as that would be rather dull
     and even though this is in JKR's magical universe, it wouldn't be
     realistic either. Failing that, people always rise up and rebel
     during war, even if the odds seem stacked against them, so that's
     also what I was going for in that respect.
***** XXVI. - Château de L'Enfer *****
Chapter Summary
     Don’t want to give too much away right now but this chapter basically
     follows the ‘mission’ from the end of the previous one There’s a new
     original male character in this chapter, let me know your thoughts
     Same disclaimer applies
     Warning: graphic material
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
There was much excitement and a sense of anticipation in the air at Dracula’s
Castle the night before the Death Eaters campaign against the Château de
L'Enfer Prison. Raucous laughter pierced the air, wine was quaffed in copious
amounts and the courses of rich food seemed never ending. Astoria however, was
filled with fear and the thoughts of foreboding would not stop teeming around
her head. She merely played with her food, unnoticed by her husband who had
largely ignored her throughout dinner as he was in deep conversation with
Travers.
 
 
“I wonder how this prison will compare to Azkaban?” Came Antonin’s voice from
what seemed like very far away.
 
 
“How bad can it be?” Came Travers’ reply, “They have no Dementors, that filthy
Mudblood Minister outlawed them years ago. I daresay the guards and the magical
defences they have put in place shall be the most troublesome.”
 
 
Astoria shuddered, Travers may think that this prison was naught to be feared,
but she felt elsewise and was sure their task would not be accomplished easily.
The Château de L’Enfer Prison had a notorious reputation, on par with Azkaban.
It was where the Ministry sent the worst of the worst of Dark wizards who had
committed the most atrocious crimes, and the saying was: “They do not send you
to Château de L'Enfer to serve out a sentence, they send you to Château de
L'Enfer to die.” Indeed, the prison was only for those serving life sentences;
no one had ever been released. Over the years many French Ministers, including
the now deposed Gustave Clément had tried to close the prison down as it was
said to be a cesspit of disease, starvation and systematic torture of prisoners
by the sadistic guards that manned it. However, the other, more moderate
prisons had refused to take in the mad and dangerous wizards that were entombed
in Château de L'Enfer. Thus, the grim fortress had endured, undermanned and
poorly maintained as it fell into disrepair and decay while the prisoners
languished within its walls.
 
 
The Death Eaters had spent a fortnight at the border receiving instructions
from the Dark Lord and making their preparations for the ensuing campaign. They
had been commanded to break open the prison and free a wizard called Marcel de
Sade. Astoria knew a little of the wizard, though his wanton brutality had
earned him a few choice paragraphs in some of her school books after all,
including: Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts: Europe.Years and years ago when the
Dark Lord was gathering followers, he had spent a lot of time travelling around
Europe, experimenting with magic, and seeking out foreign Dark wizards. The
claim was that his Lordship wanted to be sure of allies he could turn to when
he finally spread his rule from Britain to abroad. With the support of other
Dark wizards, he would have an easier time conquering the country and have more
wands to serve in his army. At some stage in his travels, he sought out de
Sade, who was a fanatic supporter of Pure Blood supremacy and wizard rule. The
Dark Lord had tasked De Sade with recruiting French wizards to the Dark Order’s
cause, and he had taken on the duty with relish. De Sade had gathered all
manner of Dark wizards to join the Death Eaters, who terrorised France in the
Dark Lord’s name. He had effectively been left to ‘oversee’ France while the
Dark Lord wrought havoc in Britain. De Sade’s gratuitous cruelty and the way he
commanded his underlings with ruthless barbarity had earned him the nickname:
Le Diable de Bourgogne – The Devil of Burgundy. It had been de Sade who had
originally recalled the giants from their banishment to terrorise Britain at
the request of the Dark Lord; he fought there for close to two years before
returning to France. When the Dark Lord fell from power, however, de Sade and a
band of loyal Death Eaters had fled France to search for him, refusing to
accept that he was dead. As it was, however, they were caught in Romania; most
like making for Turkey where they were likely to be given sanctuary by Minister
Yildriz, an open Dark Order Sympathiser, even at that time. Instead, de Sade
and the surviving French Death Eaters were dragged back to France to face
trial. It was said that de Sade refused to yield any information on the Dark
Lord in exchange for a more lenient prison, and he had laughed like a maniac
when the French Wizengamot had pronounced him guilty of mass murder, rape and
torture. Even as he was thrown into his cell hours later, he had apparently
continued to shriek with mirth.
 
 
Astoria was jolted out of her musings of Marcel de Sade by Snape’s cold voice
cutting through the air. “Silence, if you please.” The noise at the table
subsided, and everyone directed their attention to Snape, who had risen. “You
are all to report to me and collect one of these potion vials.” Snape conjured
up a tiny purple vial and twitched it between his yellow fingers. “It is of the
utmost importance that you drink this before you sleep, if you do not wish to
die a most painful death on the morrow, that is.”
 
 
“Pray tell, why is that?” Demanded Silas in his reedy voice, scowling at Snape.
 
 
“Hold your tongue, Norton!” Snapped Snape. “You will find out on the morrow, it
was what the Dark Lord commanded, and I obeyed, I suggest you do the same.”
 
 
Hours later, Astoria was cradling Leo in her arms in the Nursery, though
according to Rathburne and Clayden, there was no need. In her absence, her baby
boy had taken his first steps at last. She was so upset that she had missed out
on such a precious moment, but just now she was glad just to be able to hold
him, however much it made her arms ache as he had grown so much. Antonin was
watching her shrewdly, and she was careful not to show too much affection
toward Leo in front of him. Antonin then took Leo from her arms and stared down
at him. Astoria’s heart began to race, and she wanted to scream as she watched
her husband, terrified at what he might do. He looked up at her, his cold blue
eyes gazing at her, almost appraisingly. “It has been a year since the boy. You
need to do your duty and give me more children.” Antonin stated, brusquely. Leo
had become very still and oddly silent in Antonin’s clutches. Perhaps he senses
something.
 
“As you say, husband.” She replied, her voice almost a whisper. He smiled
unpleasantly and handed Leo back to Rathburne. Antonin then seized her arm and
marched her out of the room, and she did not have a chance to kiss her Leo
goodnight. When she arrived back in their bedchamber, Astoria gazed down at the
purple vial that Snape had given her. She unsealed the wax and drank the potion
down in one, a burning feeling arising in her chest. Astoria sighed as she
heard the sounds of Antonin banging and crashing about clumsily in the bathing
suite, and began to undress. As she slid into bed, she wondered, with an
ominous feeling, what dangerous and Dark magic they were going to encounter
that warranted a protective potion.  
 
 
As the Death Eaters apparated onto the shore of a deserted cove the next morn,
they were hit with salty, ice cold air. Astoria thought it was just as well
that she was cloaked and gloved, the cruel ocean wind felt like a thousand
knives on the exposed skin of her face. Her eyes were drawn to the enormous
ship on the water which was oddly still, yet the sea was lapping softly upon
the shore. Its many sails were as black as jet, each one emblazoned with the
Dark Mark as they stretched high into the sky from the mast, all held together
by complicated rigging. The hull was black, polished wood and the figurehead at
the front of the ship was in the likeness of a hissing snake, its mouth wide as
it bared its fangs. Astoria saw that she was not the only one staring at the
dark forbidding ship and suddenly, as though in answer to their mute interest,
it began to glide soundlessly over the water toward them. As the ship kissed
the sand with a gentle thud; the curling silver words painted upon it read:
Salazar’s Pride. Naturally,she thought, as the Dark Lord’s snake like face
appeared above the black iron railings of the ship, staring down at them all.
“In.” Commanded the Dark Lord curtly. Silently, they all trooped up the gangway
that had appeared in front of them, their many boots thudding upon the dark
wood to join the Dark Lord up on the deck. “You all know the plan. It is
essentialthat you do not fail me, or there will be dire retribution for allof
you.” None of the Death Eaters said anything, though Astoria saw several of her
fellows fidget, or else move uncomfortably on the spot. The Dark Lord ignored
this and tapped the side of the ship with his wand as it smoothly and swiftly
departed from the shore, the water beneath barely audible as they began their
voyage toward the infamous prison.
 
 
Their journey had passed without much incident; they had left from just outside
the French city of Marseilles, which was about twenty sea leagues from their
destination. Halfway through though, the seas had become very rough, causing
the ship to rock about violently amidst the waves. The Dark Lord had screamed
for them to get below deck, and blasted curses into the sky, as though he
thought he could control the weather. After a few hours in hiding as the ship
groaned and creaked, Astoria and the Death eaters emerged, cautiously, on deck
when the water grew still. The Dark Lord was gazing out upon an isolated beach,
fronted by towering, limestone cliffs, his large white hands grasping the rails
of the ship with a desperate strength. “We are here.” His Lordship hissed
softly. “Here, at last.”
 
 
There were multiple thuds as Dracula and his Vampires landed on the deck, one
after another. “My Lord, I am being at your service. Dracula and his Vampires
await your command, is it your wish that we proceed as instructed?”
 
 
“Dracula, you know what to do.” Replied the Dark Lord in his cruel, clear
voice. He did not turn or acknowledge the Vampire, his red eyes still fixed
upon the cliffs in front of him. Dracula bowed and rose into the air with his
fellows, leaving as quickly as they had come, gliding serenely toward the
prison to claim the first victims of the siege. The Dark Lord turned to the
watching Death Eaters on the deck and suddenly screeched, “Now, Death Eaters,
see the extent of Lord Voldemort’s powers!” He whirled back toward the sea and
began to speak in Parceltongue, making those hissing, spitting noises without
drawing breath, the way he always did when he spoke to Nagini. The water before
the boat began to churn violently, turning purple and making a deep, rushing
sound. The water churned and churned so that it made the boat shake and
tremble, and then suddenly, something huge spiky, scaly, burst from the sea
water, drenching them all. Astoria gazed upwards as the monstrous creature
began to uncoil itself and saw that it had many snake heads connected to a
single, serpentine body. She now knew the reason behind their protective
potions. It was a Hydra, a Hydra, a creature that had supposedly been extinct
for a thousand years. Astoria knew that even the creature’s breath was
poisonous, causing its prey to die slowly and in agony. The Hydra gave an
unearthly, screeching roar as purple smoke billowed from its many jaws and its
forked tongues lashed the air. The creature was covered in spines, it had
lethal, sharp fangs the size of swords, and glowing purple eyes, each of its
monstrous snake heads at least fifty feet thick. The Dark Lord was laughing
manically as the Hydra roared again and began to slither from the sea onto the
pebbly shore, its many heads thrashing about wildly as it made for the enormous
limestone cliffs that protected the prison. Astoria saw figures on brooms
appear, only to topple and splatter on the rocks, or else fall into the sea
when the Hydra breathed out its deadly purple smoke. Flashes of light could be
seen from the other side of the wall when the Hydra loomed above it, though
these seemed to have no effect whatsoever and seemed to irritate the creature
more than anything. It shook its heads and let out a roar that seemed to go on
forever, and it was all Astoria could do not to cover her ears at the deafening
sound. The Dark Lord had stopped laughing and was now gazing at the Hydra with
his blank, red eyes, a grin frozen on his serpentine features. Then, without
warning, he made a strangled, rasping sound. The Hydra screeched as if in
answer and smashed its heavy tail into the Western limestone wall of the
prison, causing huge chunks of rock to go tumbling into the sea, water flying
everywhere as the seafoam churned. The Hydra’s tail collided with the wall
again, and more of it fell away this time, leaving a gaping hole almost fifty
feet wide. The Hydra gave another screech and began to slam its entire body
into a thicker part of the wall in the centre over and over again.
 
 
“Now!” The Dark Lord screamed, “Take the prison and fetch me de Sade!” The ship
rocketed forward to land with a smash on the shore. The gangway swung downward
with a crunching sound as all onboard dashed down it, making for the smoking
ruins of the prison wall. As Astoria shoved her way through the jagged
limestone, she briefly got a look at the prison. She was in a gloomy courtyard
of an enormous dark grey stone fortress that seemed to sprawl on forever as its
colossal walls loomed above her. Archways with portcullis gates barred their
way to other parts of the prison and she saw wizards running toward a bridge
connecting two of the stone buildings. Acrid smoke plumed from blackened
chimneys and there were many watchtowers and high battlements tipped in cruel,
metal spikes. They were then confronted with more prison guards who had spilled
out into the courtyard, wands raised. The Death Eaters scattered in all
directions, hurling themselves into the fight. Astoria saw Avery running up the
stone stairs at the head of a group of Death Eaters to meet the guards who were
teeming on the battlements as they grappled with the Vampires, some clutching
spurting neck wounds. Bellatrix charged in the direction of the large
watchtowers, wand raised and shrieking incoherently. The Dark Lord meanwhile,
struck down all in his path with absurd ease, and some of the guards ran from
the sight of him. The Dark Lord laughed again and hissed at the Hydra, whose
many heads were thrashing above the fortress as it continued to screech over
the bangs and shouts. The creature plunged downward, and the centre wall went
toppling over, crushing those beneath it as it billowed out the purple smoke to
cover them all. Astoria could not see anything but the smoke, until she saw a
plume of orange flame through the purple haze a few feet ahead of her. She
braced herself for a guard to come running at her but no, it was worse, a
thousand times worse than that. A fire breathing lion, leapt at her, roaring.
No spell occurred to her, so she flung herself aside and sprang back to her
feet almost at once. The creature landed clumsily and rolled, and as it righted
itself, snarling, Astoria saw that it was no lion, it was a chimera.The beast
was quite huge, and though it had the body of a lion, the head of a goat arose
from its back, and its tail ended in a snake’s head. The chimera advanced upon
her, rumbling threateningly, the goat’s head on its back had lethal looking
horns and its red eyes were rolling in all directions as it made an awful,
gargling sound. Astoria shot a jet of green light at the beast, but it caught
her spell as it spat out flame and lashed its serpentine tail menacingly. She
shot out every spell she knew and that seemed to keep the chimera from
attacking in earnest, but it simply would not die. She sent a poisoned dagger
flying towards the creature’s neck and it struck home. The creature howled in
pain and was now bleeding heavily from the neck, but was still attempting to
swipe at her with one of its clawed paws, while the snake on its tail spat
venom. As she backed away, Astoria saw that she was not the only one struggling
with these foul beasts; there looked to be about a dozen of them and they were
keeping the Death Eaters in the courtyard at bay. Astoria glimpsed the Selwyn
twins shooting fire at one, while Alecto Carrow was attempting to hex another,
wheezing angrily. Then, Astoria jerked her head upwards, for she had felt
something pass over her head, she looked around wildly expecting flying
monsters, but no. The Dark Lord was now gliding over the fray, flying downwards
in great arcs. Without warning, he pointed his wand at the sky and screamed a
spell in a foreign tongue that Astoria did not know. There was a loud BANG!And
at once, the chimera’s turned on the guards and began to attack them. Astoria
saw one wizard being torn limb from limb, another had been dragged across the
shore and was thrashing about furiously as the creature drowned him in the
shallow sea water.
 
 
A wizard ran across Astoria’s path, he was being chased by another of the
bewitched chimeras and his whole back was aflame as he screamed in agony.
Yaxley, seizing the opportunity, pointed toward a steel door that was unguarded
and shouted, “There! There!” many others ran after him, Astoria among them.
When they reached the door, Yaxley pointed his wand at it and blasted it open,
brick and metal flying everywhere. There were more prison guards behind it, but
it was almost impossible to take aim, let alone utter an incantation as the
Death Eaters and the guards were all mashed up against one another in the
passageway, the crush of bodies pushing and shoving.
 
 
“I shall take care of this!” Snarled Lyle Nott, who was wedged next to Astoria.
He raised his wand as high as he could, while trying to keep balance and
screamed, “DELEO!” Faint popping sounds emitted from his wand, followed by a
deep, ominous one. A burst of luminous, blue light burst from Lyle’s wand tip
and the prison guards were blasted backwards down the passageway. Many were
writhing upon the floor, their bones smashed to bloody ruins, but others were
rising groggily, dazed by Lyle’s attack. The Death Eaters took advantage of
this and struck them down one by one, until there was only one guard left who
was duelling Yaxley. Yaxley was hit in the shoulder by a flash of silver light
and fell, grunting in pain. The wizard raised his wand again but Antonin,
Rookwood and Lyle all fired out curses which hit him straight in the chest.
Their spells had been so powerful that the wizard was lifted into the air and
smashed into the stone floor, dead.
 
 
Yaxley mopped his brow and stood up, panting. “Right, our orders are to search
every inch of this place until we find de Sade. Dolohov, take ten and go left,
Rookwood, do the same and go right, Amycus, go upstairs, Travers, go down.
Break open every cell you find!” He roared. Astoria ran after Travers after he
had gestured at her, Adelaide, Theodore, Silas, Elizabeth, Dashiell, Lancelot
and three of Marcus Flint’s Half Bloods who she did not know.
 
 
As they ran further within, the ceilings became high and cavernous, but it was
dark and gloomy, with only every other fire sconce lit. Astoria looked in all
directions as they ran, half expecting more guards, but there was no one.
Travers came skidding to a halt; he had nearly run past a sliding door covered
in spikes. He pointed his wand at the door and it burst open, leaving a great
gaping hole as the twisted metal hung limp and burned. One after another, they
vaulted through the ruin and came to a gloomy entrance hall with a set of dark
oak doors at the end. They made to run at the doors when more curses flew at
them, sailing over their heads to smash against the stone wall where they left
craters. Five guards had come surging into the hall from a concealed door to
the right and were yelling incoherently in French as they sent more spells at
them. The flashes of light from the spells lit up the hall and bounced off the
walls; one hit a desk in the corner which erupted in green fire. One guard shot
out a poorly aimed killing curse at Lancelot, who retaliated by conjuring up a
hundred silver arrows which flew with blinding speed to impale the wizard all
over his body. Silas killed another by performing Antonin’s own spell Purpura
Morta, as he slashed his wand violently through the air to emit that deadly
purple flame. Astoria disarmed another, and before the wizard could do so much
as yell, she struck him dead with Aveda Kedavra.When the guards all lay dead,
they vaulted over their bodies and threw themselves through the large doors to
enter the main building.
 
 
The prison was as grim as Astoria had heard tell, the walls were filthy with
mildew and grime, raw sewage splashed under their feet and there was the
unmistakeable stench of death in the air. They charged through several
passageways until they came to a larger one lined with iron bar cells. There
were yells and shouts as the prisoners rattled their chains and slammed against
the bars that ensnared them. “Exolvo!”Astoria and the Death Eaters all cried in
unison. CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!The cell doors all burst open, and one after
another, filthy, tattooed prisoners were surging out of them, yelling with
triumph at their freedom. Astoria and the others paid them no mind however,
they pushed past the oncoming tide, and made for an archway at the end of the
corridor. One after another, they skidded into an antechamber and flew down a
set of narrow, dark stairs. Again, and again, they went down yet more flights
of stairs, deep down underground. When they had finally reached the bottom,
there were more guards waiting below who shot hexes and jinxes toward them, the
stone walls down the dank passageway exploding with ear splitting crashes as
the Death Eaters retaliated. Silas was knocked off his feet, screaming, while
Theodore was slammed into a wall by a fire sconce, his robes catching alight as
he stirred feebly. Elizabeth screamed and struck down a guard closest to her,
hurrying over to her brother and dousing him with water from her wand to put
out the blaze.
 
 
“Leave him!” Travers snarled as he blasted another guard into the ceiling, and
Astoria heard his bones crack. “Our orders are to find de Sade and his men,
that takes priority over all else!” Elizabeth began to sob as Travers seized
her by the arm and dragged her away, leaving Theodore, the left side of his
face horribly burned.
 
 
Blaise pointed his wand at a thick metal door and it swung open, though when
they all attempted to run through, they were knocked backwards, Astoria gagged
as she was smashed onto the sewage sodden floor, the filth soaking into the
back of her robes and her hair. Adelaide wrenched herself to her feet with a
splash and sent out various curses that emanated loud bangs when they made
contact with the door. However, when she attempted to go through, she was
thrown back yet again. “Stand aside, woman!” Silas screeched, his reedy voice
echoing in the gloom as he shoved her out of the way. “Ultimum Exitium!”
Silas’s spell blasted the door off its hinges and a roaring fire erupted on the
ceiling. They all ran through the broken doorway and fled down more stairs to
escape the smoke and flames now raging through the prison, slamming it behind
them.
 
 
They were all coughing and spluttering from the smoke, Elizabeth was beside
herself with worry and Astoria was trying to calm her down. Blaise then rounded
on Silas, “Fucking hell Silas, you are going to burn the whole damned prison
down, and us with it!” He screamed.
 
 
Silas let out a snarl of rage and pointed his wand at Blaise, but before he
could utter, Astoria cried, “Protego!”And both wizards were knocked backwards
against the wall. “Stop this madness, the pair of you, we have orders!”
 
 
“How you dare!” Silas shrieked shrilly, “Antonin will hear of this, mark my
words, you-”
 
 
“No Norton, she has the right of this.” Travers cut in, curtly. “You are acting
like children. Let us make an end to this.” He spun on his heel and sped down
the musty passageway, Astoria and the other seven in his wake.
 
 
They were running for what seemed like an hour when they had to slow to a walk,
for the passageway was becoming narrower and narrower. There seemed to be less
air down here, and the darkness – the darkness was so utterly complete that
Astoria could not even see a foot in front of her. They all lit their wand tips
and continued to struggle downwards; no one speaking, even Silas seemed to have
been struck dumb by this oppressive place. Finally, they came to a low, wooden
door with a large, heavy padlock attached to it, bound in chains. Travers
approached the door cautiously, and began murmuring incantations Astoria could
not understand; highly advanced Dark magic like as not, she surmised. Before
long there was an audible ‘click’and the door slowly creaked open. More noxious
air hit them as they stepped through the door, all of them having to bend as
the doorway was so low. The dungeon they found themselves in however was large,
there was a single fire sconce burning about fifty feet high above them on the
opposite wall, dimly lighting the surroundings. Astoria had been expecting more
rows of cells, but no, the weak firelight was glinting off twenty or so large,
steel trapdoors which were sunk into the ground. As soon as Travers took one
uncertain step forward, a terrible hiss rent the air and something large, slimy
and pale was uncoiling itself from a crater in the wall. Everyone was yelling,
Travers was trying to maintain order as jets of light shot everywhere, the
bright wand tips spinning dizzily in the half darkness. Then, the creature
reared up above them and Astoria’s stomach gave a horrible lurch. It was a
Flesh Worm. Eyeless and terrible, with rows of sharp teeth lining its horrible
red sucker which was opened wide as it continued to hiss, its breath smelling
of a thousand rotting carcasses. Travers conjured up a shield charm just in
time to cover them all as the Flesh Worm spat out dark green slime at them;
Astoria knew it would melt their skin off if it made contact, and there was no
cure. The slime made an ominous pummelling sound as it hit Travers’s shield,
“Silence! Silence!” He roared, “We need to organise. The only way to kill one
of these beasts is to aim fire down its gullet, we -” But Travers was cut off
again as the foul creature slammed itself into the shield, which made an
ominous, thudding sound as its slimy coils slipped and slid over the surface,
desperate to get to its prey. Adelaide whirled, screaming, and made for the
door, but it was sealed fast as she rattled it hopelessly. Astoria was scared,
she felt that Travers’s shield could not hold much longer, somebody had to do
something, or she would die down here in this fathomless, labyrinthine prison,
never to see her son again. She made a slash through the shield charm where she
had been standing and ran behind the Flesh Worm, ignoring the shouts of the
others behind her, wand raised. The Flesh worm was blind, and was too intent on
the others, so it did not sense her running footfalls. Astoria took her chance,
she made a whip like movement with her wand and fiery swords began to slash the
creature all over its slimy, maggot like body, black blood spurting from the
wounds. It gave another hiss and swung its back end, which finished in a lethal
curved spine, and collided with the wall. Astoria had to throw herself out of
the way to avoid being hit as bricks and dust began to rain down everywhere
from the impact. When she looked up, she saw that the others had imitated her,
and the Flesh Worm was hissing worse than ever, but now, its cries seemed more
strangled, and it was not spitting out its lethal slime any longer. Please let
it die,Astoria prayed as she staggered to her feet, watching Blaise dodge and
dive away from the worm’s snapping jaws, sending out balls of fire, trying to
get an aim down its throat, but he kept missing. Silas was smashed aside by the
creature’s tail once again, and he went rolling across the filthy stone floor,
shrieking obscenities. Astoria took aim with her wand, but was also knocked
aside when the tail came lashing back to meet her. She was knocked off her feet
and the worm’s lethal pincer started slamming into the ground, trying to impale
her as she desperately rolled out of the way from the blows as the stone
cracked beneath her, unable to conjure an incantation while she was in such a
panic. Then, the pincer caught the fabric of the left sleeve of her robe, and
she was pinned to the ground, unable to rip free. Terror seized her as the
sucker of the Flesh Worm opened wide and it hissed as she desperately pulled at
her sleeve, but to no avail. Astoria’s face grew hot as some of that horrible
green slime dribbled from the worm’s jaws to plop on the floor with an ominous
‘fizzing’ sound, melting the stone. The worm was drawing closer and closer, she
choked as she breathed in its putrid breath; those rows and rows of fangs were
going to be the last thing she ever saw before it devoured her. Astoria closed
her eyes and thought of her baby boy, wanting to weep, but then a sudden,
guttural sound erupted from the creature’s throat. She opened her eyes and saw
that its head was on fire and it was writhing wildly, smashing into the walls
and ceiling raining dust and stone down upon them all. Adelaide was pointing
her wand upwards, her whole arm trembling like a leaf as she set another
fireball at the worm, her face white, but determined. She has saved my
life,Astoria thought, dazed, as the worm writhed and let out a high pitched
scream as it exploded, its slimy entrails drenching them all and the remnants
of its long, thick body thudded onto the ground, smoking. There was a long
silence as everyone stood there, panting, taking in the bloody scene. Then
Travers finally spoke, his voice shaking, though he was trying his best to
conceal it. “Open the trapdoors.” At once they all rushed towards the thick,
heavy slabs of metal, wands raised. There were faint sounds of shouting coming
from within. One by one the doors flew open with a creaking of well rusted
hinges, accompanied by an even fouler smell that permeated the dungeon. Astoria
had opened the cell on the left furthest from the door, and looked down.
 
 
A wizard with long, straggly brown hair and a face like a skull was staring up
at her, his knees were huddled to his chest and he was dressed in ragged grey
robes, wallowing in his own filth. “Can this be?” He croaked, “Or am I merely
dreaming?” He sounded as though he had not used his voice in years, cracked and
constricted as it was.
 
 
“You are not dreaming, Sir.” Astoria replied. “I am one of the Dark Lord’s
Death Eaters, here to release you from this wretched existence.” The wizard was
in a sunken pit made from stone, at least fifteen feet deep, too deep for her
to hold out her hand and fish him out, so she conjured up a rope and lowered it
down to him. The wizard grasped the rope and began to haul himself out of his
squalid captivity, his wasted face growing more triumphant as he drew ever
closer to the surface. Finally, the wizard grasped her outstretched arm and she
pulled him out with all the force she could muster, and had to stifle a gag
when his scent found her nose. He smelled of urine, sweat and excrement which
was so forceful that it made her eyes water.
 
 
The wizard got to his feet unsteadily, but then drew himself up tall, and held
himself in such a way that led Astoria to believe that he was a high born Pure
Blood. I do not like his eyes,she thought. They were pale as moons and seemed
to shine out of his skeletal face in the half darkness; cold, cunning and
cruel. “Many thanks to you, good lady.” He said, bowing low and kissing her
gloved hand with his filthy, chapped lips, which in his current state of
dishevelment, seemed almost comical. “I am Marcel de Sade, my dear, a faithful
servant of the Dark Lord and ready to put my wand at his service once again.”
He swept his filthy, matted hair out of his face; the outline of the Dark Mark
just discernible on the grubby, filthy skin of his left arm. He took a deep
intake of breath as though he were drawing in fresh air. “I have not been out
of that chamber in over sixteen years, I feel awakeat last.” He rolled his head
on his neck and gave an insane grin; what little teeth the years had left him
were black with rot. “So, the Dark Lord has done what no wizard has done
before, he has successfully broken open the infamous Château de L’Enfer Prison.
I confess, I thought I would die within these walls, you see how well we are
guarded here.” He gestured at the remains of the Flesh Worm. De Sade’s pale
eyes roved over her form and darted over to Adelaide who was helping Elizabeth
free another prisoner, eyeing them. “Well do I recall those early days when the
Dark Lord did not allow witches to serve; Madame Lestrange changed his mind
though, I think. Ah well, It shall do me some good to see some pretty faces
after all that time in the darkness.” De Sade’s lips twisted in a horrible
smirk.
 
 
Astoria inwardly shuddered, and felt outraged, and despite herself, slightly
amused that this filthy prisoner would presume to address her as such. “I thank
you Mr. de Sade, your comments are most kind, but I am a married woman.”
 
 
“Do I know the lucky gentleman?” He asked, leering slightly. “And, call me
Marcel, my dear.”
 
 
“Perhaps.” She replied, smiling sweetly, “I am wife to Antonin Dolohov, Sir.”
 
 
“Indeed.” De Sade replied, his colourless eyes widening slightly from the ruins
of his ravaged face, “Then I shall only admire you from a distance my dear, I
know that your husband can be most fearsome.” He laughed - a jarring, cracked
sound which sounded like snapping chalk. She took the opportunity to take in
the rest of the dingy dungeon. Two of the Half Blood wizards Astoria had heard
Travers call ‘Bones’ and ‘Clearwater’ were supporting a ragged prisoner between
them as he was unable to stand up by himself, knees trembling. Lancelot was
talking quietly with two others and Dashiell was attempting to revive another
who appeared to be unconscious. De Sade saw her watching and said “The last of
the Death Eaters from France. We were once sixty strong, but many were killed
by aurors and others perished within these walls. When will his Lordship-”
 
 
Astoria opened her mouth to answer, but Travers had come striding over, an
awful smile plastered across his cruel face. “Marcel!” He cried, grasping de
Sade’s wasted hand. “Freedom at last, justice has been served!”
 
 
De Sade gave his twisted grin. “I can scarcely believe it, Edward, as I was
just saying to your pretty little friend here.” He glanced at Astoria and
smirked. “I was just enquiring as to when the Dark Lord will receive me? I wish
to thank him for this wonderous gift he has bestowed upon us.”
 
 
“His Lordship awaits you without. We shall make for the courtyard and see if
all is well for us to pass through. As you are unarmed, I counsel you to stay
at the back of the party should we come across any of those pestilential
guards.” De Sade inclined his head and barked something in French to the other
prisoners, and everyone began to file out of the dungeon.
 
 
It seemed to take forever as they tramped through the prison to get to the
surface. Now that they were not running blindly through the corridors and
hexing guards who leapt out from the shadows, the going seemed far slower.
Astoria’s legs were aching from all the stairs already, the bumps and bruises
from the siege now making themselves known as they stung. When they arrived in
the passageway, all was still and silent, but for the drip, dripof water.
Astoria peered into the large cells, they were filled with ankle deep human
filth and hard stone beds. They looked as though they were meant to hold eight
or so, but judging by the number of prisoners that had come charging down the
passageway, she surmised that far more had been held in each one. Theodore was
still knocked out, and Lancelot strode over to him, held two fingers to his
neck and said, gruffly, “He is alive.”
 
 
Elizabeth let out a cry of relief and Astoria grasped her by the shoulder “See,
he is going to be alright.” She whispered in her ear, and Elizabeth grasped her
tightly by the wrist in turn. Lancelot flicked his wand to put a hover charm on
Theodore’s body and they all continued to stride down the passageway, their
footsteps splashing.
 
 
Astoria was grateful when she felt the cool air from outside lightly brush her
face after being entombed in the filthy, dank prison for what seemed like an
age. Before they stepped out into the open, Travers peered through the
destroyed metal door, cautiously taking in the surroundings. After a few
moments, he gave a jerk of his head, indicating that it was safe to go outside.
There was nothing but grey cloud in the sky, but de Sade and the others screwed
up their eyes and hissed in pain, having not seen daylight for over sixteen
years. They blinked furiously as their vision adjusted and were eventually able
to step outside in earnest. A scene of total devastation met their eyes. There
were bodies everywhere, so many that it was hard not to step on them as their
limbs began to stiffen and the blood from their wounds congealed. Those who had
been killed by the Hydra’s poisonous smoke were rotting at an alarming rate as
the smoke rose from their corpses, giving off a foul smell. There was no sign
of the Hydra itself, however. One of the prison’s watchtowers had collapsed
completely, blood spattered upon the stones from those who had been crushed
beneath it. Half of the Western wall of the prison had been blasted away with
great scorch marks running up it, darkening the grey stone. Astoria and her
fellows made their way to where the other Death Eaters were stood, with more
dirty, dishevelled prisoners among them, just as emaciated as de Sade. The
prisoners were wizards in the main, but she saw there were about fifty witches
standing behind the stocky form of Alecto Carrow.
 
 
“You took your time!” Called Yaxley in amusement as they trudged over to him. A
score of bound and gagged guards were at Yaxley’s feet, struggling madly, but
he paid them no mind.
 
 
“Yes, well, we did run afoul of a damned Flesh Worm, Yaxley. It was there to
guard de Sade and the others, took us completely by surprise.” Yaxley’s eye’s
widened as he stared at de Sade behind Travers, as though unable to believe
what he was seeing, but did not utter.
 
 
Avery whistled through his teeth, shaking his head. “And I thought our lot we
were the unfortunate ones.” He gestured at the group of Death Eaters standing
behind him, which included Draco. He looked tired and heartsick, his white
blonde hair was dull, and his skin had a greyish tinge to it. Astoria wanted
nothing more than to take him in her arms just then and hold him close. “There
were giant bats on the upper floors, one almost took my eye out, the bastard!”
 
 
Many of the Death Eaters laughed, but were distracted by Marcel de Sade moving
forward in their midst, his pale, silvery eyes gazing up at the battlements.
Astoria mirrored him and looked up too, as did many of her fellows. The Dark
Lord was standing at the highest point of the battlements, his black robes
swirling in the wind as he gazed out over the sea, his chalk white skin
contrasting sharply with the grey sky above. After a heartbeat or two, he
turned to look down at them all, and many of the prisoners began to mutter to
one another. “Quiet!” Hissed Bellatrix. She sported a nasty cut on her left
cheek and her robes were singed, but otherwise seemed unharmed.
 
 
The silence was absolute as the Dark Lord began to pace up and down the
battlements, staring down at them all with his scarlet gaze, Nagini draped
around his shoulders. Then he spoke, his voice magically magnified and imposing
“You all have Lord Voldemort to thank for your freedom, as you can see I am a
generous Master. Join me and my Death Eaters in conquering France and I can
show you extraordinary magic. All your wildest desires are possible when you
serve Lord Voldemort faithfully, and you may exact your revenge on the country
that threw you into a filthy prison and left you to rot!” There was a brief
silence, though it seemed to stretch on forever. But then - an eruption of
shouting and cheering, exploded around the ruined courtyard. Many of the crazed
prisoners were swearing retribution on their countrymen and others applauded
the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord’s lipless mouth curved in a smile and he descended
down the stone steps swiftly. When he reached the bottom, all knelt before him
on the debris strewn floor. Astoria heard his Lordship’s footsteps crunching as
he made his way toward where she knelt, knowing who he was going to address.
“Marcel de Sade.” Came the high, cold voice. Astoria’s eyes darted to her right
and she saw de Sade crawl forward and kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes.
“Sixteen years it has been, are you ready to serve Lord Voldemort faithfully
once again?”
 
 
 
“Yes, My Lord” Came de Sade’s voice, low and excited. “I knew you had returned,
for I would often feel my Mark burn, though I confess I never dreamed that such
a miracle could be achieved. You have my thanks, and my eternalservice, Master.
You truly are, the greatest sorcerer in the world.”
 
 
“You all have my leave to rise!” Cried the Dark Lord, as his new made servants
and Death Eaters alike all got to their feet. “Now, let us go!” The Dark Lord
spun around and began striding toward the collapsed wall which led down to the
beach.
 
 
When they reached the shore, many of the prisoners let out shouts of
astonishment when they saw the enormous Hydra coiled on the sand, part of its
body in the water and seemingly docile. The creature then rose its many heads
slightly at the sight of all these people and let out an ominous hiss. But the
Dark Lord hissed back in return and it merely watched them all file onto
Salazar’s Pride, its glowing purple eyes unblinking. Antonin and Yaxley dragged
the captured guards onto the ship and threw them at the Dark Lord’s feet. “What
do you want done with them, my Lord?” Antonin asked.
 
 
The Dark Lord looked down on his captives with his merciless red eyes. “Feed
them to the Hydra, Nagini has eaten today.” He said coldly, stoking the snake’s
snout with a long, white finger.
 
 
Antonin grinned and tore away the gags from the captives’ mouths and they began
to scream in earnest. “Please, Please!” One begged. “I join, you, I join you,
please do not!” The Dark Lord ignored him and was already starting to command
the Hydra in Parceltongue again. It glided through the water, hissing as one by
one, Antonin and Yaxley threw the guards overboard. The last Astoria saw of the
wizards they were screaming and thrashing about, attempting to free themselves
from a whirlpool of seawater. The Hydra rose up above them, tendrils of purple
smoke escaping from its jaws. Then in one fell swoop, the Hydra screeched and
dived into the whirlpool with a crashing of waves, silencing them forever.
Chapter End Notes
     So I thought it’d be interesting to introduce the idea of overseas
     Death Eaters as in the original books we are told that Lord V travels
     extensively in his first rise to power so I guess it’s not completely
     inconceivable that he would seek out foreign wizards for ‘the cause.’
     Château de L'Enfer translated means ‘House of Hell’
***** XXVII. - Stolen *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter goes into detail about the 'charming' Marcel de Sade and
     the French Death Eaters and the other moves Lord V is employing
     against the country for domination.
     Same disclaimer applies
     Warning: distressing and graphic material
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When the Death Eaters apparated to their commanded location, their many feet
hit the gravel below with a loud crunch. Thick mist surrounded them, and all
was still and silent but for the lapping of water nearby. Astoria thought she
could make out towering trees and hills looming above them. Their party was
somewhat diminished from the huge numbers that had been on Salazar's Pride
hours ago. The Vampires had taken the rest of the prisoners back to Dracula’s
Castle to be washed, fed and armed, while Rosier and a clutch of Half Blood
wizards had escorted the other Death Eaters back to their respective homes.
Marcel de Sade was the only one who remained.
 
 “There, that way.” Came de Sade’s voice to her right, and she saw him point a
bony finger straight ahead.
 
At his words the Dark Lord appeared at the head of their group in a swirl of
black robes. His chalk white skin seemed to glow in the grey mist, his red,
slit pupiled eyes looking especially sinister through the haze as they swept
over them. He did not say a word, but wheeled around and began to stride ahead,
all of the Death Eaters following suit. After they had walked through the mist
for a good ten minutes, Astoria saw the outline of a large and imposing chateau
which became more defined as they drew closer. The chateau was done in pale
grey stone and was protected by an enormous outer wall. Numerous minarets of
varying heights littered the elaborately developed roofline with black statues
of wild beasts and birds adorning the columns. Only one or two of the castle’s
hundreds of windows were lit, the rest were black and still. The great keep
seemed to swallow them as they marched through its shadow and toward the outer
wall. They finally came to a grand hall decorated in dark blue marble and
silver, a towering arched staircase taking pride of place. There were three
witches waiting at the foot of the stairs, two looked to be in their teens
while the other looked older, in her middling thirties perhaps. De Sade's wife
and children, no doubt, Astoria thought.
 
 “Marcel! Mon amour!” The elder witch cried across the hall. But de Sade raised
a hand "Silence, Ediva." He turned to the Dark Lord. "My Lord, the Estate of de
Sade is yours for as long as you require.”
 
 “The scrolls de Sade” the Dark Lord said coldly. “I require the scrolls.”
 
 “Certainly, my Lord. The scrolls are still in my solar, I should be pleased to
show you the way if you -”
 
 “I do not require assistance, de Sade.” The Dark Lord hissed, colder than
ever.
 
 The Dark Lord paused his ascent up the arched staircase. “de Sade” he called,
his high cold voice echoing off the stone walls. “I have a guest gift for you.
Rookwood, hand it over.”
 
Rookwood grinned broadly through the fall of his greasy, unkempt hair. “At once
my Lord.” But the Dark Lord’s robes were now swishing behind him as he
disappeared onto the darkened landing above. “Bones! Clearwater!” He barked.
The two Half Bloods appeared at once, supporting a female captive between them,
her face hidden behind the long fall of dirty hair that hung over her face.
They flung her onto the floor at de Sade’s feet and she gave a dry sob as her
face smacked on the marble. The Half Blood wizard who Astoria now understood to
be called James Clearwater seized a handful of the woman’s hair and savagely
yanked her head backwards so de Sade could have a clear view of her face. “Your
very own slave, old friend. You may do as you please with her.” Rookwood
announced, smugly. “This amulet -” He roughly yanked the iron collar around the
witch’s neck which had been set with a dark opal as she let out a whimper.
“Ensures that she will obey your every command and cannot use any magic against
you. She is a Mudblood, you see.” Many of the Death Eaters laughed but Astoria
had to supress a gasp of shock as she saw the witch Clearwater had in his
clutches. No, no, it cannot be… I thought she was dead, I thought she had been
killed long ago. 
 
De Sade’s pale eyes gleamed. “A Mudblood.” He whispered as he stared down at
Hermione Granger, the devoted friend of the now deceased Potter. Astoria
thought she looked dreadful; the scar that Silas had given her had healed to an
ugly, reddish brown, her eyelid drooped over her black, empty eye socket and
there were both new and old bruises, burns and cuts all over her face. Granger
was painfully thin, and she twitched oddly, doubtless from the many beatings
and rapes she had been forced to endure during her captivity. Astoria felt
nothing but pity, it was incredibly sad to see the once vivacious, intelligent
young witch reduced to such a shrunken, defeated state. “I shall deal with you
later you little thief. Take her to the tower!” Bones and Clearwater hauled
Granger to her feet once again and dragged her from the hall. De Sade then
turned his attention on his wife and daughters.
 
“Mon amour!” His wife Ediva cried once again, and she flung herself into her
husband’s arms, sobbing into his chest and speaking words Astoria could not
understand. De Sade murmured to her in French and stroked her dark hair before
shooting questions at his daughters. When Ediva had recovered herself, she
wiped away her tears and conjured up a wand. “Pour toi, ma chère,” she purred,
kissing his filthy face and pressing the wand into his hand.
 
De Sade held his wand high above his head and Astoria could almost see the
magic surging through him as a demonic smile lit his wasted face. “Yes! Yes! AT
LAST!” He screamed. De Sade whirled around and pointed his wand at a statue
across the hall which exploded, stone flying everywhere and sliding across the
floor, the debris melting, such was the power of his spell. “The Devil of
Burgundy, is BACK!” Wild and crazed laughter burst from him then, his face
alive with excitement, those pale, mad eyes practically popping out of their
sockets as de Sade gloried in his freedom. He is mad,Astoria thought, staring
at the demented wizard as his almost toothless mouth gaped wide open as he
continued to laugh, tears of sadistic joy leaking from his eyes. Many of the
Death Eaters laughed with him, which only served to increase his madness. When
de Sade’s mania had eventually subsided, he finally managed to utter coherent
words once again. “My friends,” He panted, “Do make yourselves comfortable, my
daughters shall show you to chambers. Pray excuse me, there is only one thing I
wish to do just now.” He gave his wife a lustful look and kissed her hand
suggestively as she blushed and tittered. The wizards roared and whistled as de
Sade clambered up the stairs, arm in arm with his lady.
  
The next time Astoria glimpsed Marcel de Sade, he was almost unrecognisable
from the dishevelled, dirty prisoner she had first laid eyes on - had it not
been for those pale eyes that she loathed so much. He was sat across the table
from her now in his audience chamber that the Dark Lord had commandeered for
his own. De Sade was wearing costly, blood red robes, his long brown hair
pulled back tight from his face which emphasised his gaunt features and his
teeth had been mercifully restored, crooked as they were. Though tall, his
build was naught but sinewy muscle and his face was hollow and wasted, making
him look far older than his sixty years. Astoria hated him, she hated
everything about this monster and she was glad that her Leo and the other
babies had been settled on the other side of the cavernous chateau, far away
from him. She did not know how long they would be forced to stay here, it was
worse than being at Dracula’s, for de Sade was nothing short of insane. He
would burst into shrieks of laughter at any mention of pain in other beings,
would fly into crazed rages if he chanced to hear the word ‘Mudblood’ and he
said that his dearest wish was to set the world ablaze for the Dark Lord so as
to destroy the Muggles forever. It was therefore incredibly unnerving to see de
Sade behaving normally at other times; kissing his wife, laughing with his
daughters, or else being cool and collected as he talked with his fellow Death
Eaters.
 
Astoria quickly looked away when de Sade’s pale eyes flicked from the Dark Lord
to stare at her. His Lordship was studying an ancient looking scroll covered in
complicated runes she did not recognise. She could not help but wince as the
Dark Lord’s hairless head flicked upwards abruptly, staring around at them all
with those blank, red eyes. “You all have my leave to go!” He announced sharply
into the silence. “I shall have no further need of any of you until our…
engagementthis evenfall.” His high, cold voice was laced with disdain.
  
Astoria could not help but share his Lordship’s feelings, for there was to be a
gathering at the Estate that night. De Sade had invited all his old Pure Blood
allies who had aided him during the First Uprising so that they might ‘acquaint
themselves with those building the New World.’ In truth though, this was merely
an excuse for de Sade to throw an extravagant ball now that he was freed from
prison. Astoria had no interest in this ball whatsoever, she may as well walk
on cracked ice as Antonin would want her to be ‘perfect’ at such a formal
occasion.
 
As they filed out of the audience chamber, Elizabeth slipped her arm through
Astoria’s. Astoria did her best to ignore the nastier aspects of her character,
but she could not help but feel comforted by the older witch’s presence these
passing days. Elizabeth was the closest thing to a friend she had ever had
since she had been wed to her brute of a husband. “I am pondering on what to
wear this night, I daresay we must endeavour to look our best as we shall be in
the presence of royalty.” She laughed and gave a toss of her chestnut tresses.
 
Astoria grimaced, apparently one of the guests was an exiled African prince who
had been banished from his native Namibia for practicing Dark magic rituals
that involved the killing of Muggle babies and children. Before she could
answer, however, she heard Antonin’s sneering voice crack through the air.
“Wife! What do you imagine you are doing? Get over here, now.”
 
As the sky darkened outside, Antonin summoned Granger to dress Astoria for the
dratted ball. Granger worked in silence, her eyes downcast as she combed
through Astoria’s golden hair, laced her into a rib crushing whale bone corset
and hung purple diamonds at her neck and ears. The gown she wore tonight was
one of the grandest she owned, crushed lilac velvet to match her eyes,
scalloped in silver lace with a heavily jewel encrusted bodice. Finally, when
Granger slid the pear shaped diamond that was her wedding ring onto her finger,
Astoria got to her feet to await her husband who was presently in the bathing
suite. She shot a quick look at Granger, wondering if she should dare speak.
The sound of running water came from the bathing suite, surely it would serve
to quieten her words. “I am so sorry.” She whispered. The one good eye that
Silas had left Granger finally met Astoria’s gaze. Something seemed to flicker
in the dismay and hopeless look in that brown orb and there was nothing but
rage there, nothing but the vilest contempt. Her expression was so frightening
that Astoria thought she was going to scream at her. What do you expect? You
are a Death Eater, you stood there and watched as she was raped by your husband
while her friends were slaughtered.
  
Their gaze was broken when the door to the bathing suite flew open to reveal
Antonin, wearing deep blue dress robes and his arrogant sneer. “You look
beautiful tonight my lady, shall we?” He held out his arm and they swept from
the room, her husband not sparing Granger so much as a glance. When they
arrived in the entrance hall they were greeted by a burst of noise and chatter
as Antonin led her over to where Marcel and Ediva were stood, greeting guests.
“Evening, Marcel.” Antonin said, grasping the others hand.
  
“And good evening to you, old friend.” De Sade replied, “And your lovely wife
of course.” Astoria dutifully stepped forward and held out her hand, which he
took in both of his own as he kissed it, those horrible pale eyes never leaving
her own lilac ones. “Madame Dolohov, good evening to you, I daresay shall
remember that face until I die.” He proclaimed extravagantly still holding her
hand, “The face of the angel who sprung me forth from that vile pit.”
  
Antonin exchanged a smirk with de Sade and they moved further into the entrance
hall to join the others. The place was a swirl of silk, velvet and sparkling
jewels, the long trains of ladies’ gowns swishing by as all the nobility of
France’s Pure Blood aristocracy laughed, chattered and drank with the Death
Eaters. She recognised some of them from when her Father had taken her to
various balls all over Europe to parade her in front of foreign nobles in the
hope of finding a suitor. No one was ever good enough though, were they
Father?She was distracted from her musings as the hall suddenly fell silent.
Astoria turned to see what everyone was looking at and knew why they had
stopped talking. Bellatrix was sweeping down the left side of the arched
staircase hardly making a sound. She was dressed in a gown which was such a
deep shade of green, it looked almost black against her milk white skin. As was
her wont, Bellatrix did not bedeck herself in jewels; her only adornment was an
emerald and diamond brooch in the likeness of the Dark Mark which was pinned
directly above her heart. She swept across the blue marble, cutting a path
through the crowd with many bowing their heads respectfully as she strode past,
holding her chin up high in her characteristic, arrogant stance. Sure enough,
moments later, the Dark Lord himself appeared at the top of the arched
staircase, staring down at them all with his blood chilling, scarlet eyes.
 
There was a great ripple of colour as the wizards bowed and the witches
curtsied for the Dark Lord. “You may rise.” Came the high, cold voice after a
few moments. “I have achieved, extraordinary things thus far and now, my plans
for the New World are finally falling into place. Soon, the natural order will
be re established, and Pure Bloods will once again rule over all the beasts and
lesser beings of this world! To Blood Purity!” He screeched to an upswing of
cheering and applause with many echoing the phrase.
  
After the Dark Lord had made his entrance, the noise crept back up again as
they all made for the ballroom. Naturally the Dark Lord took the Lord’s seat,
while many lined up in front of him, waiting to see if he would receive them.
Fools, you are merely dice to be rolled and discarded at will as the Dark Lord
plays his savage games. Antonin led her across the room to present them to the
guests; it was deemed improper for a witch to make the introductions; thus, her
spouse needs must do it for her. Let the tedium begin.The Death Eaters they had
pulled out of Château de L'Enfer prison looked barely recognisable now that
they had been washed, combed and cut, garbed in their grand dress robes. The
French nobles seemed determined to look their best, the witches wore their most
fabulous jewels and sumptuous gowns, the wizards had gold topped canes,
sparkling cravats and wore shoes made from polished dragon hide. Astoria smiled
sweetly for them and mouthed all the empty courtesies she knew by heart as she
was presented to each one them by her husband. Prince Gyasi Adimba – N’zogu;
the Namibian exile, was simply delighted when she addressed him as ‘Your
Highness’ and even more so when she complimented the stunning Egyptian looking
witch on his arm on how charming her gown was. Astoria’s behaviour seemed to
please Antonin as well, for she did not get one sharp comment in her ear, nor
the tightening of his hand over her own as was his wont when he was displeased.
Well, she thought, grimly as she took her seat in the dining hall. This is what
I am good at. This is what I have been trained to do for my entire life.
 
As Astoria had predicted, de Sade set a sumptuous table; she could hardly be
surprised after all those years of having nothing to eat but wormy meat, dirty
water and mouldering bread, not to mention wanting to ‘put on a good show.’ The
Dark Lord was not at table, but that was not unusual, I wonder if he even needs
to eat? she wondered, taking in the elaborate display of food and flowers.
There were innumerable roast swans still in their magnificent white plumage,
stuffed with oysters and creamed mushrooms. Platters of fresh tiger prawns in
their colourful shells, buttered salmon, baked crab pie, spring greens, blue
cheese tarts, thinly sliced peppered beef, mussel stew… practically every
extravagant dish under the sun was in front of her. Astoria’s appetite did not
stir however, she found it grotesquely perverse that they were walled up in de
Sade’s lavish estate, drinking fine vintage wine and gorging on stuffed squid
and the like while starvation, disease and red murder ravaged through the
country. Yet here you are.It was a rancorous prospect that she shoved to the
back of her mind as she forced down the clawingly rich swan meat.
 
“Swan not to your liking, my dear?” Came a voice from across the table. “They
come from my own lake on the Estate, you know.”
 
Astoria looked up and saw de Sade staring at her with those pale eyes like
chips of dirty snow. She barely repressed a shudder; every time he looked at
her she felt as though something dead was slithering upon her naked skin. “Oh,
no Monsieur, it is excellent.” She lied, smiling for him.
 
Antonin turned around, goblet in hand, and frowned. “She does not eat, hardly
ever.” He said to de Sade. And why do you think that is, husband?“I daresay if
she ate a little more then maybe she would have another baby in her belly by
now.” His mouth twisted in annoyance and Astoria could not help but flinch.
 
De Sade threw back his head and cackled while Ediva gave a little smirk. “You
never change, Dolohov, always speak what is in your mind do you not?” 
 
Antonin gave de Sade a stupid grin before turning to fix upon Astoria with his
cold blue stare that seemed to pin her to the spot. “You will clean your plate,
wife.”
 
“As my Lord husband commands.” She replied softly. Astoria felt Elizabeth move
uneasily next to her but did not dare look in her direction.
  
“Beautiful and obedient.” Drawled de Sade, upending a goblet of wine in one.
“You are a lucky man, Dolohov.” Ediva pouted, but de Sade gave her a playful
pinch and started speaking to her in French as she giggled madly.
  
That seemed to be the end of the matter, for Antonin turned his attention back
to his neighbour, Avery, and they continued to talk. Astoria gazed furtively up
and down the dinner table, taking in all the wizards who had swollen the ranks
of the Dark Lord’s army. In truth, she had become less fearful of the Death
Eaters whom she had spent close to three years around now – always excepting
Antonin of course – but these unfamiliar Frenchmen frightened her. She had not
been in such close proximity to them since the prison breakout and after having
been formally introduced tonight, she could now put names to faces. There was
Armand Fersen who had a shaved head, was covered in tattoos and had feverish
amber eyes that ogled every passing witch. Didier Aubin, who wore a gold ring
through his nose, had skin as black as night, a sharp tongue and quick hands
that looked like they liked to hurt. Or the sinister Louis Clavette, who was
built like a bull and made cuts up his arms for every woman he had raped;
Astoria heard him jesting with Amycus Carrow in the ballroom earlier that he
had moved onto his legs long ago. Thibault Breton, Alexandre Heroux, Adrien
Levant, Elias Malfait, Jacques Sauvage and so many more; she hated and despised
them all. They were cruel and dangerous, and what was worse is that they were
out for revenge as well as being desperate to enforce the Dark Lord’s commands.
De Sade however was the worst. Yes, he appearedto have affection for his wife
and daughters, but Astoria felt sure that if they needed to be sacrificed for
the Dark Lord then he would offer them up without hesitation. The feasting and
drinking went on for hours and Astoria was exhausted. She had drunk too much
wine and her tightly laced corset beneath her gown was beginning to grow even
more uncomfortable. It seemed that everyone had drunk too much, to be sure.
Silas went crashing to the floor to roars of laughter when he tried to stand,
Blaise was being violently sick into a large urn, Theodore was sprawled across
the table, half of his face in his apple tartine, and de Sade and his wife
looked as though they were going to lie with each other right then and there as
they kissed fiercely, their hands busy. Predictably though, Antonin was the
drunkest and loudest out of everyone and had to be supported by Rowle as they
both staggered up the stairs. Astoria scurried in their wake like a good little
wife as they made for their bedchamber.
  
Granger was waiting for them when Antonin stumbled through the door, almost
falling. His bloodshot eyes fell upon her at once and he grinned “Undress my
wife, Mudblood.” He slurred, “And yourself. I think I shall have the both of
you in my bed tonight. Purity and filth, I wonder if they will mix well.” He
laughed, his body reeling.
 
Granger had gone as pale as milk, but the neck iron ensured that she had to
obey, and she took tremulous steps toward Astoria. As she unlaced the back of
her gown, Astoria could feel her hands shaking. When she was clad in her silk
bed robe, Granger reached behind her and attempted to see to her own gown. The
time had come for action, the other witch had suffered enough, and she was
determined for Antonin not to have his own way for once. It was unlikely that
the male Death Eaters would send for her, they were all so drunk. If Astoria
could save Granger from just one night of the horror that was rape, then she
would do so.
  
“Husband.” She said with an affected little pout. “Must we have this filthy
thing in our bed?” She walked daintily over to him and pushed her hand up under
his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his muscular stomach. Antonin did not
answer, but she could feel him responding to her touch, his heart was
hammering, and his breathing quickened as she pressed her body against his. “I
daresay Marcel will be loath to burn the sheets after she’sbeen in it.”
  
Antonin burst out laughing. “Did you hear my lady, Mudblood?” He shouted across
the room, “I have no need of your dirty body this night, now get out of my
sight.” Granger hastily pushed her dress back up over her shoulders as Antonin
buried his face in Astoria’s neck, taking in her scent and breathing hard,
groping her breasts roughly. As Granger turned to flee, their eyes met. Astoria
gave her former classmate the tiniest of nods, and she could have sworn that
Granger nodded back.
  
In the following weeks, the nobles who had been at de Sade’s ‘welcoming ball’
flitted in and out of the Estate. De Sade would discuss the Dark Order’s plans
with them and they would request personal favours for when the new regime was
in force. One such afternoon, they were all seated in a large parlour sipping
on sweet wine and being served fresh fruit by Granger when Ediva stepped into
the room on the arm of an unfamiliar wizard. Astoria did not recognise him, he
had certainly not been at the ball, for if he had attended she would have
definitely remembered him. He was the fattest wizard she had ever seen, his
overlarge robes were straining on his broad stomach, his face was red and
sweaty and he was wheezing as though he had just run up a hundred stairs. “Ah,
Philippe.” De Sade went striding over to the fat wizard and grasped his fleshy,
thick fingered hand in his own sinewy one. “Do come join us. My friends this is
Philippe Rousseau, a fast friend of the Dark Order.” De Sade kissed his wife on
the cheek and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. She curtsied
to them all with a smile and drifted out of the room.
  
“De Sade, it is a true miracle that you are back with us once again. My
apologies for not being able to attend your gathering.” The wizard named
Philippe panted, still seemingly out of breath as he dabbed his sweaty, balding
head with a silk handkerchief. De Sade smiled and clapped him on his fleshy
shoulder.
  
The Death Eaters murmured greetings, some even raising their glasses to
Rousseau as he waved a fat hand at them all in acknowledgement. Silas however,
childish as he was, looked like he was fighting down the urge to burst out
laughing and took a large swallow of wine at a stern look from Rookwood. “Over
here my friend.” De Sade led him over to the cluster of chaise longues and
sofas where Astoria was sat by Antonin and Elizabeth and Adelaide were either
side of Yaxley. Astoria had a shrewd feeling that de Sade wanted to keep the
females in full view of Philippe Rousseau as he was opposite them now. Indeed,
as the grotesquely fat wizard slumped onto the chaise with an ominous creaking
sound, his pig eyes roved over each and every one of them, lecherously. Astoria
was revolted by him, despite the heavy perfumes he was wearing, the stench of
Rousseau’s flesh was apparent even from a few feet away. She also saw the
outline of sagging breasts – larger than most women’s – resting over his huge
stomach under the costly velvet robes. De Sade settled his spare frame into an
armchair facing his stout companion. “Slave!” He barked at Granger, who jumped.
“Fetch us brandy, the vintage!” Granger scuttled away to the drinks cabinet and
returned almost at once with two brandy balloons as well as the bottle on a
silver tray. Rousseau groped at her backside idly as he leaned forward heavily
to take his drink, his rounded cheeks flushed with depraved pleasure. “Now, to
business I think.” De Sade announced, a horrible smile twisting his hollow
features as Granger hurried away, looking terrified. “The Dark Lord requires
fifty wands from your household and an annual sum of half a million galleons to
fund the conquest of Europe and the expansion of the Dark Order.”
  
Rousseau’s small eyes narrowed, almost disappearing in his many folds of flesh.
He did not answer immediately but conjured up a large cigar which began to
smoke as soon as he took a long pull on the end. Astoria hated the smell, it
was so pungent and harsh despite the parlour having high ceilings. “These
demands, are very steep; however, I have several requests of my own, so we
shall see what you have to offer.” Rousseau replied, letting out the cigar
smoke with a slight wheeze. This one will be in his grave before the war is
even won,Astoria thought, wryly.
  
De Sade’s jaw clenched for a moment and his smile flickered, but he recovered
himself almost at once. “Come now, come now! You are the richest man in all of
France!” He cried, smiling, though his pale eyes were now boiling with anger.
“Do not tell me that is too much for you,Philippe. I shall listen to your
requests, however. What is it that you require from the Dark Order?”
  
Their bartering seemed to go on forever as they discussed land rights,
marriages, positions for Rousseau’s sons, and gold. Astoria could not help but
notice that de Sade’s brandy glass did not change, his colourless eyes were as
cold and conniving as ever and fixed intently on the fat wizard before him.
Rousseau on the other hand was quaffing the brandy like water, getting drunker
as every minute that ticked past. An hour later, he was shouting, his massive
form swaying heavily from the drink, beckoning Granger over to fill his glass
and groping every part of her that his stubby fingers could reach. “Where can I
get a slave like this?! Is she for sale?!” Rousseau bellowed drunkenly, brandy
spraying from his plump mouth.
  
Granger cringed away from him, looking repulsed and frightened in equal
measures. De Sade stood, “I fear not, Philippe, she is not for sale at the
present.” Philippe’s pallid, pie face grew dark with fury and he opened his
mouth to argue, but de Sade forestalled him. “I have something that you will
like even more that will not cost you a single Sickle.” He shot a meaningful
look at Armand Fersen and Didier Aubin who strode to a door on the Eastern
wall. They reappeared almost at once, parading a dozen, half naked Muggle girls
and women in front of them all, the Delacour sisters bringing up the rear. I
thought them long dead too,Astoria thought despairingly, death is preferable to
this, surely. The wizards all whooped and whistled, though some called insults,
while others threw the remnants of the fruit at the girls, jeering. Astoria saw
that all of them had bruises and whip marks up and down their backs, their eyes
were heavily bloodshot, and they were oddly groggy as they stumbled into the
room. They were all dressed in lingerie made from cheap fabrics such as cotton
and thin satin as Fersen posed them in front of de Sade and Rousseau, whose
anger seemed to have vanished as he gaped at the slender figures before him.
  
All the male Death Eaters were openly admiring the backsides of the women and
girls, and Avery shouted, “I wouldn’t mind fucking that sweet arse!” Gesturing
his goblet at a blonde haired girl who could not have been more than fourteen
as she slouched lazily before Rousseau and de Sade, one hand on her hip, her
head lolling to one side.
  
“There you are my friend,” De Sade leered, raising his voice a little over the
torrent of mocking laughter. “This is just a taster of what we can provide our
devoted friends. To be sure, these are Muggle and Veela whores, but they are
some of the comeliest among our many prisoners. They have been pumped full of
opium, so you can do anything, anythingyou want without you even having to pick
up your wand, I do know how you like to… ah, experiment with your chattel. What
do you say to that, Philippe?”
  
Rousseau licked his thick lips and finally found his voice, “I think, I will
start with this one!” He roared, pointing at a dark haired young woman who had
been tarted up in red. Aubin seized her by the arm and flung her into
Rousseau’s lap as she let out a small whimper. Rousseau smiled and buried his
fat face between her breasts, while a single tear crept down the cheek of the
beaten, intoxicated girl.
  
Rodolphus then came striding forward, a throwing knife clutched in his massive
fist. “Those are pretty lips.” He stated to the young blonde girl all the Death
Eaters had been letching over. “Suck my cock, you filthy Muggle whore.” The
girl struggled feebly and wept, trying to pull away while her companions
trembled like frightened animals and the Delacour sisters held one another.
“No?” He sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair and throwing her to the floor.
Rodolphus straddled the girl and dug the point of his knife into her cheek
until blood blossomed upon her skin. Her tears were falling thick and fast and
her eyes were rolling from the excessive doses of opium she had been given, but
she did not cry out in earnest. “Well, if I cannot have those lips, then you
cannot either.” Astoria heard Bellatrix give a delighted cackle and shivered
slightly, despite the roaring fire in the hearth. Rodolphus grabbed the girl by
the jaw, and slowly and deliberately drew the knife across her bottom lip. The
girl then found her voice. She let out a strangled scream as flesh parted from
flesh. Moments later, she had no lips. It was a grisly sight, her teeth stood
out shockingly amidst the red ruin of flesh as she howled in agony.
  
The girl’s screams were so loud that Astoria thought that the very glass in the
windows would shatter and her lungs would tear. De Sade was screaming too, but
he was screaming with laughter as the girl thrashed and writhed about upon the
floor underneath Rodolphus. The girl’s cries grew louder as Rodolphus shoved
her legs apart and yanked her toward him brandishing his knife tauntingly at
her. “I think I shall cut off your lower lips too.” The elder Lestrange
announced to whoops of glee, his brother urging him on in the background.
Astoria saw Rodolphus lower the knife between her legs and was inwardly
thankful that she was not in full view of what he did next, for the girl gave
another terrible scream and a moment later, he was holding the bloody tatters
of her womanly parts between his fingers, grinning, as the rest of the wizards
roared. De Sade, who had been transfixed by the gruesome display, then seized a
brown haired Muggle woman and began to strangle her with her own hair, panting
excitedly, his pale eyes alive with savage pleasure as she struggled and
choked. At this, Antonin got to his feet, “Witches, OUT!” He bellowed over all
the noise. Astoria did not need to be told twice, her stomach was roiling, but
Hestia Carrow looked disappointed as her aunt Alecto took her firmly by the
shoulder and led her from the room. Astoria glanced back down the corridor and
shuddered as she heard de Sade’s voice shrieking with glee as a woman sobbed
and begged.
  
The next few weeks were much of the same; wizards continued to visit the Estate
and the Death Eaters spent their days with their French counterparts, plotting
and planning their cruel dreams. Finally, as the day dawned grey and bleak, the
time had come to enforce the Dark Lord’s worst, and cruellest command. They had
the names and locations of wizarding families who had been forced into the
cities to escape the horrors of the Death Eaters and the plague rampaging
through the countryside. The Dark Lord had been explicit in his instructions
and Astoria was dreading having to carry them out. This is pure evil; how will
I even be able to face myself in the mirror each day after this?De Sade was to
head the campaign, so they were required to obey his every command. The notion
filled Astoria with disquiet. Giving de Sade any measure of power seemed a very
bad idea; the man was wild, crazed, singularly unfit to command even his own
household, let alone hundreds of bloodthirsty Death Eaters. Scarcely an hour
after they had risen from their beds, they apparated to the outskirts of a city
named Toulouse, hidden by powerful disillusionment charms. The Death Eaters had
not attacked this city before, but it was plain that the ravages of war had
scarred the place all the same. The city looked to be deserted, but for the
rotted and bloated corpses that were littered in the streets. Many windows had
been boarded up and there were old, yellowing wanted photos and posters warning
of the plague pasted to many doors. This city is dead.She thought, staring at
the bleak surroundings. Well with any fortune, they would find no one here. As
the Death Eaters came to a rusted bridge above a foul smelling, stagnant river,
Astoria felt rather than heard her fellows splitting into groups as she and
nine others trooped across the bridge, led by de Sade. He had commanded the
Death Eaters to search every single street that were known to have the homes of
witches and wizards so that they might accomplish their terrible task. Just
before they reached their destination, a rabid black wolf slunk from a burned
out building, sniffing the air, its mad eyes rolling as it rumbled a growl.
Before Astoria could blink, however, the beast turned tail and scurried up a
dark alley, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. She heard Antonin’s
soft chuckle come from somewhere to her right.
  
They made their way up a miserable street lined with abandoned homes which were
falling into disrepair. The houses were of a middling size, but fairly close
together and Astoria grimaced when she saw that many had graves in the front
gardens.
  
“Flint, Clearwater.” Came de Sade’s excited voice when they were all stood
outside the house. “As a precaution, I command you to keep watch outside.”
Astoria heard their murmurs of assent and the shifting of footsteps as they
hastened to obey. There was the faintest poppingsound and she beheld de Sade
and all the others crowded by the stone pathway that led up to the front door
of the house. The expression on de Sade’s face was unnerving – a look of savage
anticipation. Wordlessly, he whirled around and pointed his wand at the door
which burst open, green flames licking the ruins of the mangled doorframe.
  
With a scream of triumph, de Sade went running through the front door, Astoria
and the others right behind him. She could hear screams coming from upstairs
and Antonin, Travers and Didier Aubin went flying up the staircase, panting
excitedly. Suddenly, a curse flew above her head, hitting a light on the
ceiling so that glass flew everywhere. An emaciated wizard was standing in the
hallway, his whole body trembling he raised his wand once again at the oncoming
Death Eaters. De Sade reacted with blinding speed. Just one flick of his wand
sent the wizards wand flying through the air, it was caught by Blaise who
snapped it in half at once. There was a loud BANGand the wizard went smashing
into a pair of glass doors, shrieking in pain as the cruel shards shredded his
skin. De Sade cackled and kicked him so hard that the doorframe broke and he
went crashing to the floor into the next room. Howling, the wizard tried to
crawl away but – “CRUCIO!”De Sade screeched at the top of his lungs, his wand
slashing the air. The wizard screamed louder than ever as he writhed upon the
floor, the shards of glass biting deeper into his flesh as de Sade laughed and
laughed. To spare herself this awful sight, Astoria ran to the back of the
house with Elizabeth and Blaise, their wands pointing in all directions as they
searched each room for the rest of the family but there was no one. She had to
steel herself as they walked back to the drawing room where they had left de
Sade, for there were horrendous screams echoing off the walls. De Sade was
still torturing the wizard who was now covered in blood, and there were five
more people in the room; a witch and four children. They were all bone thin and
it was their screams that mingled with the wizard’s.
  
“Maman! Maman!” They all sobbed, for Armand Fersen was atop the witch, plunging
in and out of her and laughing while she beat her fists fruitlessly against his
chest, wailing in agony. There were twin boys, no more than six years old, an
elder boy of eleven or so and a little girl of perhaps eight. The elder boy was
in Antonin’s clutches, Didier Aubin held the struggling twins, but the small
girl merely cowered in the corner, terrified and confused. 
  
De Sade ceased torturing the Father of the family and waved his wand so that he
was bound in ropes and a cloth gag appeared in his mouth as he continued to
thrash about upon the floor, bleeding and bruised. At this, the elder boy
attempted to shake Antonin off, trying to reach his parents. A mistake.Antonin
dealt the boy a vicious backhand and Astoria heard his cheekbone shatter as he
screeched in pain. As the boy fell to his knees Antonin began to beat him
remorselessly as his family wept and screamed. When the boy had lost
consciousness, Antonin kicked him aside and strode toward where the Mother was
now being raped by Louis Clavette who was grunting like a pig. “My turn,
Clavette!” He shouted and Clavette rolled off the sobbing witch, grinning.
Antonin then proceeded to take his pleasure, grabbing a handful of the witch’s
hair and biting her all over.
  
De Sade sauntered over to a moth eaten armchair and scooped up the little girl
in his arms. He sat and placed her on his knee, bouncing her up and down as he
toyed with one of her plaits, a horrible mockery of a grin twisting his face as
she continued to sob. “Shh... shh now little one.” He cooed sarcastically in
her ear before kissing a wet cheek, smacking his lips in apparent relish at the
salt taste of tears. “All will be well if Mummy and Daddy do as they are told.
If they love you enough that is.” De Sade finished, nastily.
  
The Mother crawled forward, blood poured from between her legs and all her
limbs were trembling. “Please, please, Monsieur de Sade,” she croaked, her
voice hoarse from screaming and constricted by fear. “We will do whatever you
ask, please, just do not hurt our family anymore!”
  
De Sade leered, his hollow face flushed with pleasure. He was where he
belonged, beside himself with happiness; taking huge pleasure in causing pain
and misery to others. “Good, that was not so difficult now was it?” The witch
gave no reply, but knelt there, quivering, as de Sade jabbed a bony finger at
her. “You shall have the honour of purifying the wizarding race by producing
the next generation of wizarding children in a place we like to call the
Purification Institute in London. Who knows, maybe one of my friends here has
already blessed you with a bastard this day.” There was a great gale of laugher
at his last words and the witch began to sob, shoulders shaking. “Your pathetic
excuse of a husband will serve in the Dark Lord’s army or your children will be
killed. They are now the property of the Dark Order and shall be raised in the
Institute so that their minds might become uncorrupted. Your daughter-” He gave
an evil grin, “Shall join you in your duty of whelping children as soon as she
has bled.”
  
“Mercy Monsieur, mercy!” The witch screamed looking up imploringly into de
Sade’s amused face. “You can have me, all of you, my body for my children!” de
Sade hit her across the face and she fell. He then proceeded to pinch the
little girl in his lap so that she shrieked in pain. The bound and gagged
Father struggled madly upon the floor, trying to speak, but Blaise casually
pointed his wand at the wizard and hit him with the Cruciatuscurse. The
wizard’s back arched and muffled yells of pain escaped through the cloth that
had been shoved into his mouth. Astoria hardened her heart seeing as she could
not look away. She knew that such atrocities had been committed in Britain, but
she was deemed to young and inexperienced at the time to take part in this
monstrosity. 
  
“You do not make demands upon me, you Half Blood scum!” De Sade then sprang to
his feet and as he did so, he shoved the little girl onto the floor where she
lay, curled into a ball and crying. “One more outburst like that and I shall
have your children chopped to pieces before your very eyes!” He screamed down
at her, looking utterly demented as she shrank away from his fury, terror
etched on her face.
 
“Marcel,” Didier Aubin interrupted, his black eyes glinting in his dark face,
“This brat, is a Squib.”He snarled, shaking the twin to his left roughly. “A
few simple spells told me all I needed to know about this abomination.”
  
“Very well then, let us make an end to this.” De Sade replied. “Take the brats
and kill the Squib.” He said in a bored voice to the surrounding Death Eaters.
Aubin and Travers tore the screaming boy away from his twin and flung him at de
Sade’s feet as he shook with terror.
 
“NO!”screamed the witch as the other children began to scream. But too late, de
Sade and Thibault Breton waved their wands and fiery whips burst from the tips.
Breton’s whip coiled around the boy’s neck and the smell of seared flesh filled
the room as the child screeched in agony. De Sade’s began to lash the boy
mercilessly all over his body; great gaping wounds tearing through his skin.
 
“DIE SQUIB, DIE!” De Sade shouted over shrieks of raucous laughter so that he
was practically raving. “ABOMINATON! FREAK! MONSTER!” He continued his savage
attack until the boy was nothing but tattered flesh and broken bones upon the
floor, exulting in the horrific sight.
 
The witch was attempting to crawl across the floor as de Sade was murdering her
son, but Travers hit the witch with the Cruciatuscurse. Her screams increased
in pitch and she shook violently, eyeballs rolling while the Death Eaters
laughed. Antonin dragged the Father by the feet while Rowle had the elder boy
and the remaining twin under each of his huge arms, both of them kicking and
screaming. Astoria swiftly strode over to the hysterical girl and grasped her
by the arm as she set her on her feet. She was just about to lead the half
starved child from the room when de Sade seized her by the throat and flung her
over his shoulder like a hunting trophy as her tears fell thicker and faster
than ever. De Sade cackled as the child beat her fists against his back,
desperate to be free from his monstrous clutches and screaming for her Mother
who lay beaten and defiled upon the floor.
 
By the time the grim day was done there were cages of weeping children and
babies, many of them covered in welts and bruises. Witches and wizards had been
separated into cages too, some desperately reaching through the bars to try and
get to their precious offspring. This did not amuse de Sade however. One witch
would not stop screaming and was fighting tooth and nail to get to a small girl
in the cage nearest her who appeared to be unconscious. De Sade calmly walked
over to the cage and gave a flick of his wand, and the witch’s screams of
misery turned into ones of pain as her arms now ended in two bloody stumps
where her hands had been. He grinned as he watched the other witches within the
overcrowded cage shriek and jostle about, many becoming spattered by the blood
gushing from the angry red wounds.
  
“When will you fools learn to do as you are commanded?” de Sade sneered,
strutting in front of the cages as though he had won some great victory. “That
should serve as a warning. Anyone else making trouble will watch as I do the
same thing to your brats.” He kicked one of the nearest cages containing
children and they all screamed, begging for their parents for help. But the
imprisoned witches and wizards did nothing by word or deed to interfere,
terrified of what de Sade would do next.
  
Bellatrix appeared then with a faint ‘pop’grasping a sobbing teenage girl by
the arm, her expression triumphant. She was accompanied by Walden McNair,
Minister Yildriz and half a dozen Half Bloods, who also had children of varying
ages in their clutches. “These are the last of them, de Sade.” Bellatrix
announced in her harsh voice, throwing the girl to the ground. “They were
hiding out in a building on the Western side of the city along with some dirty
Muggles,who we slew.”
  
There was a ripple of laughter and de Sade nodded, smiling unpleasantly, “Very
good Madame Lestrange, throw these urchins in with the others.” Bellatrix gave
an equally nasty smile and complied, shoving her captives into a crowded cage
as the children within wept and screamed.
  
That evenfall, when they returned to de Sade’s Estate, Astoria was permitted to
visit Leo before dinner as a reward for being ‘good.’ Naturally she treasured
these visits, but she was distracted, even as her baby boy giggled and played
with her diamond necklace, enthralled by the fire from the stones. The campaign
had left her shaken and on the verge of tears. The poor children.When she
looked at Leo she could only think of the babies and children housed in the
outbuilding on the grounds of the Estate, stolen from their families to be
raised in the brutal Purification Institute. They must be so scared, and it
will only get worse for them.The Dark Lord had decreed that they were to be
removed from the country two days hence to begin the ‘process.’ The stolen Half
Blood children were to have their memories wiped and given new names. Their
‘lessons’ were to begin as soon as they arrived at the Institute, which would
involve Victoria Avery and her underlings preaching anti Muggle sentiments,
Pure Blood supremacy and that the Dark Lord was their ‘absolute ruler and
saviour.’ Punishments for misbehaviour were severe, Astoria knew; beatings, the
Cruciatuscurse, or else being locked in a dark cell for days on end without any
food or water. By the time they were ready to attend Hogwarts the children
would be cold blooded and twisted by years of conditioning and ill treatment at
the Institute. They would be scarcely shadows of their former selves, ready and
willing to serve the Dark Order. Astoria stared out at the dark grounds of the
Estate as she stroked Leo’s hair absently, wondering what fresh horrors the
Dark Lord had in store for the people of France next.
Chapter End Notes
     This chapter was heavily influenced by Nazi Germany. During WWII it
     was pretty common for SS Officers to spend the day brutalising
     concentration camp prisoners and then go to some lavish/over the top
     party where they would have alcohol/women etc while the country was
     in open war. They also kidnapped loads of children from neighbouring
     countries like Poland to ‘turn them German’ which is somewhat
     mirrored in this chapter by what Lord V has commanded the Death
     Eaters to do. Many of the atrocities in this chapter (and some
     others) were also derived from the Rwandan Genocide in the 90’s which
     was particularly sadistic, especially the treatment of women and
     children. With regard to Hermione, I never actually state in any of
     the chapters after she is tortured whether she dies/had been killed,
     Astoria just assumed that she was dead.
     My inspiration for Marcel de Sade’s Estate - https://
     cdn.chambord.org/en/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2017/02/Vue-
     a%C3%A9rienne-c-LDS-8-1200x675.jpg
     http://designlike.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Chateau-de-
     Chambord.jpg-9.jpg
     Please remember the men, women and children that are still suffering
     atrocities like this today all over the world.
     S x
***** XXVIII. - Blood and Fire *****
Chapter Summary
     Hi everyone, sorry for the late update. I can't really summarise this
     chapter without giving too much away, so I'll leave you guys to it!
     I've added a slightly different element this time which will be
     explained in the end of chapter notes.
     Thanks to those who continue to read and contribute,
     Peace x
     Same disclaimer applies.
     Warning: graphic and distressing material.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Dark Lord was relentless in his savage course as the Death Eaters continued
to rip wizarding children from their families. Astoria was heartsick from all
this wanton brutality, and there was not a single thing she could do about it.
Her own role in these monstrous crimes often found her being sick at night,
long after Antonin had passed out drunk. It was just so hard now that they were
dealing with the torment and misery of children every single day. They are just
so innocent. Astoria sighed inwardly and pushed up from the breakfast table,
tossing her napkin on her plate before bending over and kissing Antonin on the
cheek, her hand touching his shoulder briefly. Antonin glanced at her but did
not break off his conversation with Amycus who was describing some vile sexual
act he wanted to ‘try out’ in minute detail. She took that to mean that she
could leave so she swept over to where Elizabeth was standing by the ornate
double doors, her expression most ill natured.
 
 
“Ready to go?” Astoria asked her, hoping she sounded casual as opposed to
mortified.
 
 
“Tsk! We do not have a choice, do we?” She muttered furtively under her breath.
Elizabeth surveyed Granger with open hostility as she came scurrying over to
join them. “You take the Mudblood today, Astoria. I did it yesterday.” Her grey
eyes were as hard as stone. Astoria made no reply but turned on the spot,
clutching Granger’s arm. “I hate doing this!” Elizabeth hissed in Astoria’s ear
as they appeared in front of a grim, stone outbuilding with a heavy metal door,
though the sobs from within were audible even from here. “I am not some common
Nursemaid to these dirty Half Bloods!”
 
 
Astoria made a non committal sound in her throat in reply. She pointed her wand
at the door so that it swung open and the screaming and crying increased in
pitch. My morning dutiesshe thought, grimly as she stared around the dimly lit
room as beaten, soiled and half starved children huddled upon the floor,
cringing away from their approach. This experience never got any easier to
bear. Every morn they would arrive at the building armed with bread, cheese and
milk. Every morn she would have to try and coax screaming babies to feed from
milk bottles, desperate for their own Mother’s touch. Astoria tried to be as
gentle as she could without arousing suspicion, for Elizabeth treated the task
with distain. They had both been chosen for this task as they were ‘Mothers’
and this was seen as ‘witches work.’ Granger accompanied them as the Dark Lord
did not trust her to be alone with the children for fear she may try and help
them escape, despite the slave amulet around her neck. After the children came
the witches who were kept in a similar state, though at night the comelier ones
were dragged inside both to provide ‘entertainment’ for the male Death Eaters
and so that they might be impregnated before their imprisonment at the
Institute. They were only to be used for that purpose however, for De Sade and
his wife were severely punished by the Dark Lord for murdering a witch in their
bedchamber one eve. He had claimed that it was an ‘accident’ while they were at
their bed sports, but this did nothing to abate the Dark Lord’s fury at this
destruction of ‘his property.’ Astoria doubted de Sade’s story too, for she had
seen the witch’s body which had been riddled with stab wounds with a dark ring
of bruising adorning her neck. Ediva had wept and begged as the Dark Lord
Cruciatedher over and over again, but de Sade’s screams eventually turned into
hysterical laughter as he writhed upon the floor, foaming at the mouth, his
pale eyes rolling. The Dark Lord had also commanded Snape to brew powerful
fertility potions which were force fed to the witches daily. The captives were
only fed food once a day; the Dark Lord wanted them alive after all for his
twisted vision of the ‘New World’ he was carving out for himself. He was making
plans to construct a new Purification Institute in France once the war was won,
Astoria knew. Victoria Avery had sent several letters requesting permission to
enlarge the London Institute and more Death Eaters to oversee the children as
she was “Besieged with brats and whores.”Astoria could well believe that, for
the witches and children would be portkeyed from the Estate three days after
their arrival. The numbers being brought in were staggering now that the Dark
Lord had unleashed the other inmates from the Château de L'Enfer Prison to do
his bidding. Captured Squibs who were very young were simply killed and decried
as abominations, or else subjected to cruel and pointless experimentations by
the Dark Lord who wished to ‘study’ them. The elder, able bodied Squibs were
kept as house slaves; serving at table or scrubbing de Sade’s chateau until
their hands were red and raw. The wizards did not fare well either, for they
were tortured into submission or else threatened with the killing of their
children to force them to serve. Most broke easily, however half a moon ago,
one wizard refused to be cowed and even tried to escape as he was brought food
one morn. For this ‘crime,’ Marcel de Sade had presented the wizard with his
daughter’s head that very evening in his audience chamber. Astoria recalled
with painful intensity how de Sade had flung the girl’s head at the wizard,
screaming with laughter as the other dissolved in misery. There was not a day
that went by that Astoria did not feel terrible guilt and shame for aiding the
Dark Lord in setting de Sade loose upon the world.
  
 
The next morn Astoria was gazing up at her bed canopy as Antonin lay beside
her, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The bedsheets were tangled about their
legs the way they always were after her husband had taken his morning pleasure.
Antonin began to fondle one of her breasts idly, but the gilded clock mounted
upon the wall began to chime and he gave a growl of frustration when he saw the
time. “I suppose we had best make haste, the Princeshould be arriving soon
after all.” There was amused derision in his voice. To be sure ‘Prince,’ was
not a title that was recognised, nor legally accepted in Europe. However, in
the Middle East, Africa, and Asia; who were ruled by families, not Ministries,
such titles were the norm. Another wealthy ally, and this one with a grudge
too, just what the Dark Lord needs, she thought bitterly as she pulled on her
Death Eater robes.
 
 
Prince Gyasi looked very pleased with himself as he swaggered into the grand
entrance hall where they were all congregated. It was odd to see the Prince
garbed in Death Eater robes compared to the extravagantly decorated African
robes and the many golden rings on his fingers that he had donned at the ball.
Gyasi crawled toward the Dark Lord and kissed the hem of his robes.
 
 
“My Lord” He rumbled in his deep Namibian accent, “The task you set me is done,
they await you within the grounds.”
 
 
Gyasi had given handsomely to the Dark Order, Astoria knew, for when his kingly
Father had banished him, he had been given a handsome amount of gold on the
understanding that he was never to return. From what she knew of the Prince
thus far, whoever or whatever he had 'procured' could not possibly be anything
good. Her fears proved true, for when they apparated to a remote area of the
Estate they were greeted by deafening roars and growls accompanied by the
unmistakable scent of fresh blood. Behind a magical blue perimeter teemed no
less than thirty five Graphorns as they tore apart deer carcasses and shoved at
one another, snarling as bones crunched and entrails flew. They walked on all
fours on large, clawed feet and were quite huge, at least fifty feet long with
humped backs and long, sharp tails. They tossed their horned heads and
attempted to gash one another with their claws, but to no avail; their hides
were said to be tougher than a dragon’s. When the creatures noticed the
newcomers, many began to slam their dark, scaly bodies against the perimeter;
baring their teeth from between the tentacle like appendages lining their
mouths.
 
 
The Dark Lord stared at the creatures triumphantly, “Very good, Gyasi, you have
Lord Voldemort’s gratitude.”
 
 
Gyasi bowed low, smirking. “My Lord knows that I am here to serve him despite
being new to the cause. I still have my old supporters in Namibia who helped me
acquire these rare beasts.”
 
 
“Quite. Now, release one.” The Dark Lord commanded. It was all Astoria could do
not to gasp in horror, this was madness. She glanced furtively around and could
see that several of her fellows looked apprehensive too, but de Sade’s pale
eyes were gleaming with excitement as he beheld the teeming Graphorns.
 
 
With the tiniest hesitation, Gyasi complied and gave a flick of his wand. At
once one of the Graphorns burst free and charged toward them, the ground
shaking so badly it felt as though cracks would soon appear. The Dark Lord
calmly raised his wand and spoke in the same queer foreign tongue Astoria had
heard him use once before. As the Graphorn was on the point of trampling them
all, it came to a skidding halt, its flanks heaving, its bulging yellow eyes
fixed upon the Dark Lord. His Lordship spoke again, and as docile as a dog, the
Graphorn laid down upon the ground, its scaly eyelids drooping. At this there
were many shocked gasps and impressed murmurs.
 
 
“My Lord, might we know how you have achieved such- such wonderous magic?”
Travers asked breathlessly, looking in awe at the subdued beast.
 
 
The Dark Lord stared at Travers almost appraisingly as though deciding whether
to answer him or curse him. Travers obviously scented danger too as he began to
bluster but the Dark Lord cut him off. “I have been studying the scrolls that I
procured from de Sade, Travers. They contain ancient magic that has proven
invaluable in my experiments. I am now able to control powerful Dark creatures
at will as possessing them has proved ineffective thus far.” De Sade was
smirking as though he had something to do with it and many of the Death Eaters
shared approving looks with one another. “Now, we return to the chateau!” Came
the Dark Lord’s high, cold voice, slicing through the chatter like a sword.
 
 
The Dark Lord kept them in de Sade’s audience chamber for hours, detailing what
his plans were for the next phase of breaking down France’s all but spent
defences. Aaemon Burke; great nephew to the long dead Curactacus Burke and now
the Dark Lord’s Chief Spymaster joined them for a time, telling them all he
knew about how many witches and wizards they could expect to meet on this
campaign and what defences they may encounter. Astoria had not seen the servile
wizard for close to two years and in that time, she had forgotten how much she
loathed him. Burke had a weak face but when he smiled he looked very sinister
with his crooked teeth, greasy brown hair and greyish skin; she was no fool
either, craven as he was, Burke was also capable of great cruelty. Snape also
addressed them all at tedious length, handing out protective potions and other
concoctions he said would ‘keep them alert’ for the strenuous mission ahead.
Just when Astoria thought that the meeting was finally drawing to a close, the
Dark Lord held up a white hand to indicate that he wanted silence which of
course, fell at once. He then conjured up a thin, unfamiliar looking wand as
black as jet. He twirled it between his long white fingers, his expression
seemingly musing.
 
 
“Dracula” He called in his high, cold voice. Dracula swiftly got to his feet
and strode forward, bowing low before his Lordship.
 
 
“How might I be serving you my Lord?” Dracula rasped, keeping his head bowed
subserviently.
 
 
“Lord Voldemort is pleased with your service thus far, Vampire. And Lord
Voldemort rewards those who are faithful and obedient. May I present this wand
that I have crafted myself. It is fashioned specifically for the use of your
kind as a wizard’s wand will not work properly as I am sure you are aware. I
daresay you shall get plenty of… practicewith it in the wars to come.”
 
 
There was a stunned silence after this pronouncement and Dracula seemed to be
struck dumb for a moment before coming to his senses. He flung himself onto his
knees in a ridiculous bow and kissed the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. “My
Lord,” He whispered, his voice hoarser than usual such was his shock. “My Lord,
thank you, this is a wonderous, wonderous gift. We Vampires have been dreaming
of this for centuries, we are being yours to command, always my Lord.” The Dark
Lord nodded in reply, his face expressionless as Dracula continued to grovel at
his feet.
 
 
As they all filed out of the room, Astoria mused on all she had heard. She
thought that arming Dracula and his fellows with wands was a singularly bad
idea - nothing good would come of this. Part human magical creatures had always
been forbidden to carry a wand, and with good reason. Any magic that was
conjured from a wand by a non human could be unpredictable and dangerous, there
was just no telling how weak - or how powerful the spells would be. Should the
Vampire’s wands prove adept at their brand of magic, it would provoke even more
chaos and bloodshed, especially with creatures of their murderous nature. Which
is just what his Lordship intends I’ll wager.
 
 
The time flew by far too quick for Astoria’s liking. Every day that she looked
out of her window more and more tents appeared outside, littering the greenery
of Marcel de Sade’s Estate like mushrooms after rainfall. There was always
anticipation in the air before a campaign, but this was… different somehow. The
tension was so thick it was as though one could cut through it with a blade and
scuffles would often break out between the wizards over trifling, childish
matters. They are nervous, even though they would not dare say so to one
another.As for herself, Astoria was nothing short of terrified. She had heard
all the stories that Antonin and the others would trade with one another about
how many died on campaigns of this scale and she prayed she would not be one of
them, her son needed her. Alas, the day she had been dreading had finally
arrived. Today they would march upon the French capital of Paris where most of
the surviving population had fled from the Dark Lord’s bloodthirsty conquest of
their homeland. The Death Eaters were now six hundred strong, not including the
Vampires, Werewolves and other malevolent… beings that now made up the army.
 
 
After Astoria had dressed, she was led downstairs by Antonin; the Dark Lord had
commanded the Death Eaters to assemble outside before he summoned them. The
morning air was crisp and sharp, but the sun hid behind a thick haze of gloomy
cloud. There was a great buzz of excited chatter coming from many throats as
they waited on the pristine grass. Astoria saw Marcus Flint sharing a drinking
flask with one of his men, a young wizard was fiddling around with his wand
looking nervous but determined and the Selwyn twins were talking with one
another animatedly, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter. Then without
warning, Astoria’s left arm burned white hot. The summons.She saw that she was
not the only one in discomfort, for many of her fellows were trying to conceal
grimaces of pain. Now that the Dark Lord was growing so powerful, the summons
burned worse than ever before.
 
 
When the Death Eaters apparated to the soot blackened, windy field, they were
greeted by an ear splitting, mind churning racket of noise, for all manner of
savage beasts were spitting, snarling and growling in their midst. Chimeras
that the Dark Lord had seized from the Château de L'Enfer Prison billowed flame
and clawed at the ground, dragons – including the Amazonian Vipertooth soared
through the sky, roaring, while Dementors and Vampires twirled, almost
gracefully, between them. There were Thestrals too; but there was something
terribly wrong with them. They were milk white rather than black so that the
blood vessels beneath their hides stood out shockingly, slaver ran from their
jaws and their eyes were scarlet, just like the Dark Lord’s. Giants swung their
clubs and stamped their huge feet, Greyback and his pack were in their wolf
forms as they bayed excitedly, giant black king cobras lashed their tails
furiously and huge bats flew in great twisting arcs making unearthly screeches.
Trolls mounted on the Graphorns jostled against one another as the beasts
roared in unison with savage Sabre Toothed Panthers. The Dark Lord appeared at
the head of the monstrous army he had built, a look of vicious satisfaction
upon his snake like face as he surveyed them all. Wordlessly, he pointed his
wand at the ground which began to tremble, and Astoria almost lost her feet.
Earth flew in all directions as great mounds began to erupt everywhere followed
by dark black shapes. Huge Acromantula were now scurrying all over the place,
their many eyes glinting as they clicked their pincers angrily. Elizabeth
shrieked and jumped backward as one of the massive spiders burst not two feet
from her. “Calm yourself woman!” Astoria heard Yaxley bark over all the din.
 
 
Astoria felt Antonin’s iron grip on her arm. “See that, wife? Do you see it?”
He whispered in her ear. “We are sure to have an easy victory this day.”
 
 
“SILENCE!” The Dark Lord screeched over the din, his voice magically magnified.
“Today, we shall make an end to this conquest and scourge this land of filth.
When you go forth this day, you are to use whatever means necessary to subdue
the people. You are to slay every man, woman or child who attempts to fight,
and imprison those who yield. Victory is in sight, Death Eaters!”At his
Lordship’s words there was a roar of assent, the Death Eaters cheered and shot
jets of light into the air, whooping and whistling, eager for battle. “Now,
MARCH!”As one, the Dark Lord’s savage army moved forward as he rose up into the
air to fly ahead of them. The Death Eaters made their way across the scarred
countryside; much of the greenery was blackened and burned, while many of the
corpses had rotted down to bones. Villages were set alight, despite them being
dark and deserted. There was a woman who was dying from the plague, twitching
feebly and staring blankly up into the sky. Her life was swiftly ended,
however, when a giant’s foot slammed down on her, blood and bone flying
everywhere. Anyone else they came across was dead or dying as they continued
their march to Paris.
 
 
On and on they went, with many Death Eaters setting fire to any villages they
came across, despite them being empty. Countryside gave way to large, square
Muggle buildings Astoria had glimpsed before in other cities. They came to
Muggle roads which were littered with abandoned… cars? Yes, that’s what they
are called,which the Death Eaters blasted out of their way so that their grim
procession might pass freely. The army was stopped by an invisible force when
they came to a sign that read ‘Beinvenue à Paris - La Ville de L'Amour.’Astoria
took the last part to mean – ‘The City of Love. Not for longshe thought grimly,
as the Dark Lord came gliding down to the ground to stand at their head once
again. He whirled around to study the road ahead of them and shot a curse into
thin air. There was a loud BANGand the curse ricocheted off thin air, hitting a
tall tower and blasting part of it away. “Begin.” The Dark Lord hissed, his
back still to them. As one, the Death Eaters raised their wands and pointed
them upwards, directing spells at the invisible shield. The dragons landed with
a crash, destroying the road beneath them as they did so. They all let out
deafening roars and spat flame; aiding the Dark Lord in breaking through the
last thing that kept the people of France safe. Before long the ground was
shaking and there was a great groaning sound as though a building were about to
collapse. Harsh pops rent the air like firecrackers and there was a rushing
sound as though a fierce wind was blowing in Astoria’s ears. Then there was
silence. The Dark Lord took one step forward over the threshold, unimpeded by
the spell that had held him back only moments ago. Bellatrix let out a scream
of triumph and a jet of flame blazed from her wand. Other Death Eaters shouted
their approval and the mass of Dark creatures among them howled and screeched
louder than ever.
 
 
“Forward!” Screeched the Dark Lord and as one, the army continued further up
the deserted road.
 
 
Astoria did not know what happened next, but as they drew level with two tall
buildings there was a deafening explosion. She was knocked to the ground in a
tangle of arms and legs of those closest to her. She coughed as white dust
obscured her vision and tore at her lungs, there were moans of pain and the
ground crunched as many of the Death Eaters stirred feebly among the ruins.
Astoria then heard the unmistakable cracks and bangs that could only be
duelling. An emaciated Muggle woman then came flying out of the dust, howling
and brandishing a kitchen knife. Astoria sent a jet of green light at the
woman, but it flew over the other’s shoulder and instead hit a dark figure who
crumpled to the floor. She tried to curse the woman again, but she had to jerk
backward to avoid being slashed by the blade as the woman lunged, still
screaming incoherently. Throwing all caution to the wind, Astoria balled her
left hand into a fist and hit the woman on the side of her face, gritting her
teeth in pain as the woman dealt her a slash on her forearm as she fell.
 
 
“Aveda Kedavra!”Astoria panted, hitting the Muggle straight in the chest as the
latter struggled to rise.
 
 
The dust had now cleared slightly, and Astoria could see starved looking
witches, wizards and Muggles swarming everywhere; France’s last defenders had
come together to fight them, refusing to bow to the Dark Lord’s tyrannical
rule. There were suddenly sharp jarring bangs which rent the air, she looked up
and saw that the buildings either side of the road contained Muggles holding…
Guns! Those foul metal things they use to kill one another with.She flung
herself aside as a spray of bullets erupted in the ground before her, instead
making contact with a young Death Eater, mowing him down in an instant as he
clutched his chest, screaming. He could not have been a day more than
seventeen. Astoria pointed her wand at the Muggle man who was now shooting down
other Death Eaters with such deft accuracy and yelled “Ecfingo!”The gun was
wrenched out of the man’s hands by an invisible force and turned on him,
riddling his bony chest with red bullet holes. The Muggle slid lifelessly from
the smashed window frame with a sickening thud; his pulpified entrails
scattering all over the floor upon impact.
 
 
The Dark Lord was now circling overhead, “KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL, NOW!”He
screeched as one wizard sent the Dementors flanking him flying in all
directions with a well aimed Patronusin the likeness of a lion.
 
 
The giants roared and began to swipe at the buildings with their huge spiked
clubs, sending the Muggles within flying everywhere along with all the glass,
dirt and plaster. Some of the Muggles attempted to shoot down the giants too,
but the bullets merely bounced uselessly off their thick, tough skin. This only
enraged the savage beasts and Astoria saw a large male giant pulling people out
of the ruins and biting their heads off, tossing the corpses over his shoulder
as he continued to destroy the building. Flying Muggle contraptions that made a
‘chopping’ sound flew above the giants trying to bring down the dragons, but
they were melted as easily as flying insects. As Astoria blasted a wizard out
of her way she looked up just in time to see a dragon grasp one of the flying
devices and fling it away with absurd ease, screeching its displeasure. It
landed not twenty feet from her and she backed away. The thing was causing
mayhem; it had huge blades on its roof which were slicing through both the
rubble and the flesh of anyone in its vicinity. Both Death Eaters and Muggles
screamed as they sported bloody stumps and deep slashes from the bizarre
contraption. She pointed her wand at the floundering blades and performed a
freezing charm which mercifully stopped the chaos. The roaring Trolls riding
the Graphorns charged through the turmoil, trampling all in their path to death
as the creatures themselves gored other people savagely with their horned
heads.
 
 
With their path further into Paris now clear, Astoria heard the Dark Lord
shriek: “Take the city! Take it for me NOW!”
 
 
As one, the Dark Lord’s savage army surged down the road to pour into the city
of Paris in earnest. Astoria found herself in a large square with a decaying
statue in the centre. Everyone was charging off in different directions; some
ran up streets, some apparated to other parts of the city and others began to
destroy everything they could reach. Muggles were running and screaming while
scores of plague victims were wandering about aimlessly and raving nonsense to
themselves, seemingly unaware of the red terror unfolding around them.
 
 
“To the Dark Lord!” Bellatrix screamed as she set a tree ablaze, cackling madly
as the orange flames licked the dying brown leaves, her gaunt face alive with
excitement. She was suddenly distracted from her fiery work when she spotted a
family dashing from a nearby townhouse, desperately trying to make an escape up
a side street. But Bellatrix flew after them like a hungry She-wolf, hurling
out jinxes and insults.
 
 
“Drag those dirty Muggles out of their hovels!” Antonin bellowed at a group of
Half Bloods. They obeyed without question and began smashing down the doors of
townhouses where screams and shouts could vaguely be heard over all the din.
 
 
Before her husband could notice her, Astoria fell in with another group of Half
Bloods led by Avery who were streaking in the other direction. They all came
skidding out onto a wide street littered with abandoned cars, and almost at
once, the wizard next to her fell to his knees as a jet of green light hit him
in the chest. She heard the gunfire before she saw the bullets and conjured up
a shield charm just in time; Avery however was not quick enough and he fell to
the floor with a scream, clutching at his arm.  
 
 
“Spread out, get behind the cars!” Astoria commanded them all before hastily
casting a shield charm over Avery, who was moaning and bleeding upon the
ground.
 
 
The words had barely left her lips when a Muggle man darted out from behind a
car with an enormous gun done in black steel, spraying bullets at all of them.
Astoria flung herself behind a burned out car and peeked over the surface just
in time to see one of the Half Bloods blasting the Muggle backwards. As the
shouts and gunfire intensified, she crept among the cars to mask her footsteps,
her wand close to her chest as she swept her surroundings. More curses flew
over her head as she weaved her way through the labyrinth of rusted metal when
she saw a wizard aiming curses at the Half Bloods on the other side. She took
aim and was about to cast her spell when the ground began to shake violently
with fresh shouts and screams ripping through the air, a giant roaring in the
distance. 
 
 
Marcel de Sade and five others came pouring down the street at the head of a
swarm of giant bats, hounding a crowd of terrified Muggles as they ran from the
bloodthirsty group. The bats savaged the slower Muggles at the back, clawing at
their limbs and sinking their teeth into their faces. Astoria ran from the
oncoming tide and she saw the wizard turn, realising for the first time that
she was behind him. As she fled, a jet of red light flew past her ear and she
aimed a curse at the wizard who was pursuing her. She also missed, for the
wizard chased her up into an alley, his curses flying off the cracked stone
walls. Astoria whirled around and repelled a curse that was heading directly
for her face which rebounded upon the wizard, knocking him back out into the
street. Astoria raised her wand to finish the other, but she reeled backwards
as the ground shook once again with enough force to knock her over. A huge foot
slammed down right where her combatant had just been stood. She flattened
herself against the wall and gazed upwards in shock. A giant was roaring in
pain and blundering around wildly, holding huge hands up to reddened eyes where
it had been hit with a conjunctivitis curse. Many of those upon the ground were
crushed as the giant continued to stagger all over the place, being reduced to
nothing more than gory masses of flesh upon the ground. Confused and enraged
the giant tripped and fell backwards with a CRASH over a pile of rusted cars,
half crushing a large building behind it. The creature howled worse than ever
and its enormous limbs flailed about dangerously as it lay upon the ground, for
the tall spiked spire that protruded from the building’s front had impaled the
giant right through its eye. The street was awash with blood as it pumped from
the giant’s grisly wound and everyone scattered. Astoria whirled and ran back
up the street to get back to the square. As she emerged, she felt someone seize
her arm and whirled around to curse them, but it was only Elizabeth, her face
bruised and her hair matted with blood.
 
 
“Not that way!” She yelled over noise, dragging Astoria in the opposite
direction. “They have more of those wretched guns down there!”
 
 
They ran down the street and made to run across a road, but a huge bus exploded
into a fireball not twenty feet from them, knocking them backward in opposite
directions. Then there was an almighty roar and Astoria saw that the sky had
been plunged into shadow. She shoved her hair from her eyes and peered up to
see a green dragon flying so low that she could almost count the scales on its
great stomach. The dragon’s heavy tail smashed into a building as it flew
higher into the sky with another great roar; much of the debris that fell
killed many who were on the ground, caving in their skulls. As she pushed
herself to her feet, Astoria saw Gregory Goyle surrounded by Muggles armed with
knives, their blades rising and falling as the fat craven screamed in agony
while Amycus Carrow lay face down in a pool of blood. Frightened, Astoria
turned away from the sight and went into Rookwood as she ran blindly to try and
find Elizabeth. She almost fell, but Rookwood seized her arm in a vice like
grip and hauled her to her feet.
 
 
“Concentrate!” He snarled before plunging back into the fray.
 
 
Astoria then found herself shoved into a group of Death Eaters led by Silas.
The group were tormenting a large crowd of Muggles, chiefly women and
children. It is because they have killed many of the men already, most
like. Hestia Carrow pointed her wand at a small boy who soared into the air,
screaming with terror. She then proceeded to bounce him up and down on the cold
hard ground, laughing as the boy became covered in more blood and bruises upon
each brutal impact. When she grew tired of the sport, Hestia merely left the
boy twitching and bleeding on the floor. There was then a guttural screech and
Astoria turned to see a pack of the rabid Thestrals prowling menacingly toward
the Muggles. The savage creatures bared their teeth and tossed their heads;
slippery ropes of slaver flying everywhere. Silas vaulted onto the back of one
of the Thestrals, cackling, with many others following suit. They began to rain
more curses down upon the group of Muggles, who either fell to the floor, dead,
or else shrieked in pain. The Muggles attempted to flee but when they turned
around they came face to face with Astoria, Travers and a dozen other Death
Eaters.
 
 
“Daemonium maxima!”screamed Blaise from behind her.
 
 
Black smoke plumed everywhere, churning and swirling above their heads. The
smoke took the form of winged demonic creatures with red eyes and wide gaping
mouths with cruel fangs. They let out cackles of sinister laughter which
mingled with the Muggles’ screams of terror as they ran from their tormentors
who plunged after them ruthlessly. Alecto Carrow was next to Astoria, running
as fast as her short legs would carry her and panting with indecent excitement
as they chased the Muggles up a riverside while the Death Eaters in the air
continued to brutalise them with vicious hexes. All they could do was weep and
scream even harder, dragging terrified children behind them as they fled across
a bridge, desperate to get away. But when the Muggles reached the other side of
the bridge a snarling chimera leapt out of nowhere, blocking their path and
spitting flame furiously. A man threw himself at the beast, attempting to
distract it as his daughter tried to escape. Quick as a flash, the chimera
turned its cruel fire on the girl and a moment later she was running around
disorientated and shrieking with half of her face aflame, scattering all those
in her midst. Her Father desperately tried to put out the flames but ended up
catching alight himself. The girl continued to run about wildly before crashing
into the ledge and falling headfirst into the ice cold river. Her Father threw
himself after her, screaming and sobbing, his whole body now ablaze. Astoria
jerked her head up and saw Silas wheeling about on his Thestral, beside himself
with glee as he surveyed the horror beneath him. He waved his wand in a huge
arc and she heard the metal whining and nuts and bolts springing from their
fastenings as the bridge began to twist. The Muggles screamed and were
scrabbling around on the rapidly tipping surface but to no avail; one by one
they were thrown into the water beneath them. Some of the Muggles who had
survived the fall were attempting to climb the mossy, mildewed river walls, but
the Death Eaters forced them back into the water with vicious hexes. Then the
screams increased in pitch as some Muggles were dragged beneath the surface. It
took a moment for her to realise what was happening, but then Astoria gave a
gasp of horror and took a step backwards. Hundreds and hundreds of Inferihad
begun to crawl up the river walls while their fellows strangled and drowned the
remaining Muggles with their slimy, dead hands. She stood there and watched,
transfixed with horror as the Inferioozed from their watery resting place to
befoul the streets of Paris, dragging other fleeing Muggles to their deaths to
join them in their watery abode of doom. A woman sobbed helplessly as one
Inferiuspried her child from her grasp, while another petrified family were
backed against a wall, besieged on all sides by the vile creatures.
 
 
Terrified, Astoria turned and ran off after McNair who had just pounded past
her, wand raised. She had only run for a few strides when McNair was thrown
aside as a ball of fire exploded above them, but Astoria dodged and ducked, not
knowing what to do or where to go. Half of the city was ablaze now and she
could not stand it; the blood the terror and the screams, it was unendurable.
She did not know how long she ran for, but she eventually came to a quieter
street, barely noticing a soot stained, cowering family as they huddled in a
doorway. They all screamed when they saw her, but she paid them no mind and
continued to run, dodging Lancelot Mulciber as he chased after a young woman in
a torn dress, calling out obscenities and laughing while she wept hysterically.
Astoria burst from another small side street only to find herself on a gaping
wide avenue where there was more fighting between Muggles, witches and wizards.
She looked around wildly and saw that this avenue was called Champs-
Élysées.Astoria ran towards an enormous arch, cursing Muggles out of her way as
she did so. Bellatrix, Snape and at least ten others were attacking the arch,
trying to bring it down and Astoria added her spells to their own. The thing
did not look like it could stand much longer; it was covered in cracks, craters
and ugly black burn marks. Indeed, a few moments later the ruined arch began to
creak and sway and brick by brick, it began to crumble, huge tidal waves of
dust billowing into the sky and down the street as it collapsed, stone flying
everywhere. Bellatrix gave a scream of delight at the destruction and promptly
ran back off into the chaos, hunting down a woman who was clutching a screaming
child. Astoria gazed around, blinking the grit from her eyes. I am in a world
of blood and fire,she thought, for what had first been a battle had now
descended into a massacre. Everybody seemed to be running in all directions;
and the screams, the screams were unending. Men, women and children were struck
down mercilessly, the Werewolves and Vampires savaged the flesh of young and
old alike while dragons wheeled above, destroying entire streets as they spat
out their deadly flame. She saw the mounted Trolls hacking off heads with huge
machetes, giants were stamping on people, eliminating them in one red stroke as
they turned things like lamp poles and cars into weapons, flailing them about
and roaring in their incomprehensible tongue. A Sabre Toothed Panther had a
dead child clutched in its jaws as it slunk away up a smoking street to devour
its prize, and Astoria saw that Travers had a man and a woman pinned to the
wall, naked, while he, Antonin, Yaxley and Theodore beat them with red hot
bullwhips, all of them laughing. Louis Clavette was openly raping a young girl
in the street while a man and a boy were being savagely tortured by Aubin and
Fersen as they screamed and sobbed. Parents desperately tried to shield their
children from the tides of Acromantula that were swarming over them, tearing
them to pieces with their venomous fangs. She watched as Prince Gyasi set a
pair of black vipers on a helpless young boy and Rowle causing utter chaos by
firing out curses everywhere, the spells ricocheting off everything in sight. A
sound like a clap of thunder reverberated through the air and Astoria looked
up. The Dark Lord himself was atop a tall building, pointing his wand directly
at the sky, his long black robes flapping wildly around his skeletal form as
though in a high wind. A jet of green light was spurting from his wand tip and
the sky began to churn, turning a deep greenish grey as cars flew in all
directions, smashing into buildings – and people, killing them instantly. Trees
were uprooted, huge glowing cracks appeared in the ground and Astoria was
thrown backward, but she saw a hoard of Death Eaters and Muggles alike falling
into the deep fiery crevasses, shrieking. She dragged herself to her feet and
conjured a shield charm to protect herself from the debris that was flying
everywhere. The Dark Lord’s maniacal laughter seemed to boom from the heavens
above as it assaulted her ears; he had never looked more evil and demented to
her as he did just then. An unearthly screech of pain suddenly rent the air and
Astoria was momentarily distracted from the horrific scene. One of the smaller
dragons was now writhing and twisting through the air, its orange eyes bulging
as it spat out dangerous plumes of flame everywhere and causing several
buildings to catch fire. There was a jagged piece of metal lodged in the side
of its neck and one of its wings looked torn. Despite the dragon being in the
air, Astoria dodged about nervously on the ground, not knowing where the beast
would fall. The dragon gave another loud roar and began rolling through the air
drunkenly to smash into a large, dome shaped building across the street. Its
whole body went crashing through the roof, lost from sight as tiles and stone
came smashing down from the blackened hole. She turned and ran as fast as she
could as dragons could sometimes explode after they died. Astoria was too
intent upon her escape to see the spell hit the building she was running past,
but the next moment the very sky was blotted out as wood, stone and metal came
rushing up to meet her before everything went black.
 
 
The air was thick with dust and smoke. Where am I?Astoria thought groggily. Her
ears were ringing as she raised her pounding head which felt a thousand times
heavier than it ought to. She clumsily scrambled away from the corpse of a
Death Eater who was lying next to her, blood covered his face and his blue eyes
were unseeing. Astoria shoved aside a plank of wood that was covering her and
righted herself, trying to take in her surroundings. She was not aware of
getting to her feet, but she began to walk, almost dream like, around the
ruined city that had once been Paris. The screams, shouts and the billowing of
roaring flames had subsided. There was almost complete silence. Many of the
buildings had been destroyed, with missing walls or facades so that the stairs
and the various floors could be seen within. Some were burning, others were
merely smoking, blackened and scorched. The crack that had torn through the
road on the Champs-Élysées was now forty feet wide. Trembling, she peeked over
the edge; though this great gaping wound was no longer afire, molten lava oozed
through the deep abysses below that seemed to go on forever. Death surrounded
her. Muggles and Death Eaters alike were in the piles of corpses that were
strewn everywhere while others lay alone, still and bloody. She was unsurprised
to see that many heads had been impaled on spikes and the mutilated, half naked
bodies of women and girls lay openly for all to see. A naked man had been
strung up on a lamp pole by a chain around his neck; he was blood from head to
foot and his eyes and teeth were gone. I helped create this horror, this
evil.When Astoria turned a corner, she let out a scream. The dragon who had
fallen from the sky lay dead in front of her, its body facing upwards so that
its unseeing, orange eye glared right at her. There was laughter and Astoria
raised her wand, looking about wildly. But it was only the Zabini brothers and
some Half Bloods who were walking over the dragon’s huge body, many with large
strips of dragon hide slung over their shoulders.
 
 
“Alive, then are you?” Josiah called as he smiled unpleasantly down at her.
They were all in similar states of dishevelment to her, bloody and bruised with
torn robes. “I daresay, your husband will be –” But he was not able to utter,
for he grabbed his left arm and gave a hiss of pain - Astoria felt it too, as
did the others.
 
 
“Let us go.” Blaise said curtly after half a heartbeat. And as one, they all
turned on the spot into crushing darkness.
 
 
When they apparated to the summoned location, Astoria had to suppress covering
her ears to the racket that greeted her after the near silence. The survivors –
or rather the Dark Lord’s slaves now – had been rounded up into a huge square
in the centre of the city. After the slaughter she had seen in the streets,
Astoria was surprised to see so many; hundreds of thousands of them they were.
The survivors struggled and jostled making a tremendous amount of noise as they
were pinned in place by Death Eaters and the other savage creatures from the
Dark Lord’s army. Looming above them all was the tall metal Muggle structure
Astoria knew was called ‘The Eiffel Tower.’ The Amazonian Vipertooth was
perched on the side of the tower, surveying the scene below with its blank
green eyes as faint smoke drifted from its mouth and nose. There was then a
sudden upswing of drunken cheering, shouts and jeering coming from the far side
of the square. A crowd of wizards were parading down the main pathway of the
square which led up to the tower. Because of their height, Antonin and Rowle
were prominent among the group and they seemed to be dragging someone. When
they drew closer she saw that it was none other than Gustave Clément bound in
chains and dressed in rags with a long scraggly beard and hair – a shadow of
his former self. Clément walked along meekly enough, but Antonin and Rowle kept
roughly yanking the two thickest chains that were bound to his neck as the
other Death Eaters laughed. Marcel de Sade went skipping in their wake -
cackling joyfully as he swung the heads of two young women by the hair. Then
came a lumbering Graphorn being led by a huge troll, a body chained tightly to
its humped back. The victorious procession made their way up to a stone dais
that had been erected near the base of the Eiffel tower, all assembling,
waiting. Moments later, all the Death Eaters began to sink to their knees as
the Dark Lord himself came striding down the pathway, unable to conceal the
twisted look of triumph upon his serpentine features. When he reached the
centre of the dais, he gestured toward the troll who dragged the body from the
back of the Graphorn. The Dark Lord waved his wand and levitated the body to
sink onto what looked like a meat hook. When the troll grabbed a handful of the
corpse’s hair and yanked the head backwards, Astoria saw who it was and could
not be surprised at the angry yells and roars of outrage that came from the
crowd. The head of Harry Potter had been clumsily re attached to his body, but
his face looked almost the way it had been in life, though he was now
completely bloodless. The Dark Lord then stepped forward and drowned out all
sound with his high, cold voice that filled the air around them.
 
 
“People of France, you are defeated. My army vastly outnumbers you all and the
borders have been sealed, there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Lay down
your arms, yield to the Dark Order, kneel before me and you shall be spared.
Anyone who continues to challenge my rule will be slaughtered, as well as every
member of their family. From this day forth, you put your faith in me as your
absolute overlord and ruler. I bring you the body of Harry Potter, who is dead
by my hand . I have your vanquished Minister here, who begged for death when I
caught him. There is no one to save you now; from this day forth, you put your
faith in me. Watch!”The Dark Lord nodded to Antonin and Rowle who forced
Clément to his knees, each of them clutching a chain around his neck. The Dark
Lord stepped forward, and slowly raised his wand which was pointing directly at
Clément’s face. Quick as a flash of lightening, his Lordship swiped his wand
through the air. As he did so, blood spurted from Clément’s neck and his head
parted from his body. Astoria felt blood pepper her face as she had been
standing, and she gritted her teeth determinedly to keep her cool composure.
Many from the crowd were jostling furiously and screaming insults but the Dark
Lord ignored them, wordlessly holding out a large, white hand. Antonin stooped
and seized the head, handing it to his Master with a look of vicious
satisfaction upon his twisted face. The Dark Lord grasped Clément’s severed
head by the hair, holding it up high in the air for all to see. “You see,
fools!?”He screeched over the now roaring crowd, “Both your precious leader and
Harry Potter are both GONE! There is now no one to threaten ME, Lord Voldemort,
the greatest sorcerer in the world!”The Dark Lord then pointed a long white
finger at the trapped crowd. “Death Eaters, seize them! Seize them all NOW!”At
this the Amazonian Vipertooth launched itself from the Eiffel tower and landed
on the Western facade with a crash. It spread its enormous wings and gave a
deafening roar, spitting out its molten green fire directly at the base of the
tower. The heat coming from those green flames was so intense, Astoria felt as
though she were in a furnace, the sweat plastering her robes to her back as the
dragon continued to roar. The smell of molten metal filled the air and Astoria
heard the tower groaning in protest. The iron grew red hot and glowing, the
colour spreading upwards so that it was no longer a black tower, it was a red
one - radiating its terrible glare into the darkened sky. Astoria felt a sense
of sinking doom as she watched the pointed tip of the Eiffel tower beginning to
sag and droop like a spent candle upon the backdrop of the burning, defiled
city.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay soo I thought it’d be interesting to have the Muggle/Magical
     worlds collide in terms of ‘battle’ as that isn’t something that has
     been covered in this story so far. Yes the ‘Muggle’ weapons turned
     out to be inferior in the end, but I thought it unrealistic that the
     Death Eaters would just march into the city and win just-like-that
     which is why I made it more of a struggle. By having both Muggles and
     ‘good’ wizards come together to fight the DE’s it’s also a testament
     (I believe) to the human spirit of resisting against evil and
     oppression even if the odds are stacked against them. I had Lord V
     display HP and kill the former minister as it’s a way of instilling
     even more terror/despair in his enemies to get them to submit to his
     ‘rule.’
     I felt it was also necessary to describe the 'dark creatures' that
     make up the army to as this is often alluded to in the original (JKR)
     books, but we don't get that much info other than giants/dementors/
     giant spiders. For those who have not seen/read Fantastic Beasts or
     Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, this is a Graphorn: https://
     i0.wp.com/wiki-fx.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/FB-TRL3-
     878901.jpg?fit=1200%2C503
     PS. Let me know if anyone liked the use of ‘Muggle weapons’ in play,
     if yes then I may put more of that in later, if no then I’ll never do
     it again! :-)
***** XXIX. - Out of the Ashes *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter focuses the type of 'world' that Voldemort seeks to
     carve out for himself and the ripple effects it has on everyone else.
     Thanks again to all those who continue to read/comment.
     Same disclaimer applies.
     Warning: graphic and distressing material.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The struggle for France was all but done. The Dark Lord had proclaimed victory
only two days past despite having spent close to four moons transforming the
city of Paris, which was now unrecognisable. Meanwhile, the Death Eaters had
been commanded to scour the rest of France for any more survivors to drag back
to Paris. This was accomplished with relative ease, despite the numbers that
had been lost during the sacking of Paris. Almost two hundred Death Eaters had
perished during the attack; Gregory Goyle, Evan Rosier and Amycus Carrow most
prominent among them. Many had been severely injured including Lucius who was
rumoured to have a mangled arm. Astoria was surprised he had survived at all
seeing as he had been forbidden to participate in combat since he lost his
wand. Poor Draco, she thought sadly, an opium addicted Mother and a desperately
wounded Father.This would have hit him hard, Astoria knew, for Draco was
incredibly close to his parents and loved them dearly. She could not pretend
not to have a twinge of envy in that respect; she had loved her Father very
much, but as a little girl she had dreamed and dreamed of having a Mother to
dress her in lace and tuck her in at night while singing her songs. Perhaps
that was why she was determined to give Leo as much love and care as she
possibly could.
 
The courtyard where Astoria stood was thick with so much smoke that she rather
felt that she needed to conjure herself a Bubblehead charm. It was so early in
the morning that the sky was still dark as the bright orange flames danced
upwards, the black smoke from all the parchment barely discernible but still
vexing. Her eyes stung, and the acrid fumes were making her cough as she
levitated a huge pile of books to add to the raging bonfire where all the rest
were burning. The firelight danced off a smashed and burned glass pyramid in
the middle of the courtyard which Astoria found queer and at odds with the
baroque French building that loomed above. A few days past they had been tasked
with laying waste to this large Muggle museum named The Louvre– all Muggle art,
books and history were to be destroyed as the Dark Lord considered their
content to be ‘libellous filth.’ His Lordship had decreed that possession of
any such material was tantamount to treason and the accused must be made to
suffer the consequences. Pure Bloods would be subject to fifty lashes and a
fine if caught, but Half Bloods were treated far more harshly. The unfortunate
would be stripped of their wand and sent to toil in the Goblin mines to procure
jewels, or if the material was offensive enough then they would be sentenced to
death. It is as though his Lordship wishes to re forge history… in his own name
to be sure. The fires had been burning for days now as other Death Eaters sent
to purge the country of the ‘harmful texts and illustrations’ added their
material to the flames daily.
 
“Wife!” Antonin’s voice cracked through the roaring of the flames like a whip.
Astoria turned to face her husband who was overseeing the endeavour today. Half
of his face was in shadow and his blue eyes were gleaming in the flames making
him look incredibly sinister. “I command you to search the Eastern side of this
hovel for anything that has escaped our purge and tell anyone who is still
inside to get back out here at once. We would not want them to miss the
fireworks,now would we?” He sneered. “I want you back here forthwith.”
 
“As you command.” Astoria said at once; it was as though those words were now
tattooed into the forefront of her mind.
 
Antonin smirked before turning to bark out more orders to the other Death
Eaters who were mirroring Astoria and heaving great piles of statues and
furniture onto the flames which swallowed them greedily, feeding the hungry
fire. Dutifully Astoria strode toward the once grand building, privately
feeling relieved to escape the choking smoke which was beginning to make her
feel unwell. The corridors were full of smouldering debris, all the fine
wallpaper had been ripped away leaving grey flaking walls with black ugly
scorch marks all over the ceiling. The only things that had been saved were
ancient wizarding artefacts that had somehow found their way into the Muggle
museum archives. All the Muggle made china, paintings, tapestries and many
queer metal devices that Antonin told her were called ‘electronics’ had been
destroyed. The Muggle built building had been very grand with rich colourful
murals on the ceiling outlined in carved gilded gold, and it made Astoria feel
a little sad to think of the beautiful vibrant place it had once been. She
walked through the destroyed corridors, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
All of a sudden, she heard a screech of raucous laughter ring out from behind
her and followed the noise. Her footsteps took her to a large cavernous room
where she found Silas and Bellatrix sitting atop an Egyptian statue in the
likeness of a Sphynx, cackling madly and quaffing wine from the bottle like
uncouth ruffians. Silas had donned a golden crown which was askew as he
hiccoughed and sniggered.
 
“Astoria!” Bellatrix shrieked drunkenly as Silas reeled, “Come, come have some
of this wine!”
 
Astoria forced herself to smile. “I thank you, Bellatrix but I believe the
building is to be razed in due course at my Lord husband’s command.” Though it
would not go amiss if you and Silas were to be destroyed along with it,she
thought savagely.
 
Silas sprang to his feet before promptly sliding down one of the arms of the
Sphynx to land with a crash upon the floor, his golden crown rolling away with
a metallic, tinny sound. Bellatrix followed suit, though Astoria and Silas had
to haul her to her feet because she was so drunk.
 
Astoria strode through the building, trying to recall where she had come in
while Bellatrix and Silas stumbled in her wake, guffawing like fools. At last
she found the doorway that had been blasted open hours ago and stepped out into
the smoky air, willing herself not to retch and cough. The Death Eaters were
all congregated around the fires which now leapt almost twenty feet into the
sky, Antonin at their head. Astoria weaved her way to the front of the group,
knowing that was where her husband would want her to be.
 
Without turning around to face them, Antonin said in a hard voice “Do it.”
 
As one the Death Eaters made identical slashing movements with their wands. For
half a heartbeat, nothing happened, but then… BANG!The first Eastern column
exploded in a great gush of green flames and Astoria heard Silas and
Bellatrix’s screams of delight before they were drowned out by another great
explosion. One after the other the explosions continued all the way up the
building that framed the courtyard as the malevolent green flame began to take
hold like a snake slithering through grass. The Death Eaters cheered as brick
and dust flew everywhere and Astoria heard great cracking noises as wood
splintered and metal groaned. There were two great towers that stood across
from each other which had not yet succumbed, though the green flame had
engulfed them. Antonin flicked his wand casually and the green flames formed a
demonic face which let out a terrible laugh before splitting into hundred evil
faces which rushed at the towers. When they hit there were numerous bangs and
crashes; the towers swayed and creaked before collapsing inwards onto the
courtyard and a huge billowing mushroom of green flame rose up high in the air,
lighting up the sky from the ruins. The Death Eaters whooped and clapped as
they were all bathed the malevolent green glow. Silas and Bellatrix were arm in
arm in arm, jumping up and down like evil sprites and cackling madly as dust
and green cloud swirled around them all.
 
“Good, very good.” Antonin said softly as the building melted and caved in like
some great cake. “Let this filthy Muggle building burn to ashes, it is time we
took our leave of this place, the Dark Lord is expecting us. Silas, Bellatrix,
pull yourselves together at once.” He added sharply. Silas gave Antonin an
innocent smile as the firelight flickered over his disfigured face, but he
conjured up two black vials and shared them betwixt himself and Bellatrix.
 
The Death Eaters grumbled audibly as they walked away from the ruined museum;
an apparition ban had been put in place due to all the… changesthat the city of
Paris was now undergoing and many resented having to ‘walk like those dirty
Muggles.’ They made their way toward a slum that had already developed a
notorious reputation during the relatively short time they had occupied Paris;
it had been nicknamed Les Tenebreswhich translated as The Darkness.The attack
on Paris had caused so much destruction that many of the modern streets and
roads had been ripped up and destroyed, leaving a foul soup of mud, domestic
waste and unicorn droppings in their place. The Dark Lord had segregated the
city by Blood Status. Pure Bloods lived in the centre whereas Half Bloods were
made to live in slums scattered around the area. They were all crammed into
tall, narrow, poorly ventilated buildings that lined the maze of rotting
streets. It was strictly forbidden for any Half Blood to enter the Pure Blood
section of the city without express permission under pain of death or the
Dementors Kiss. Astoria grimaced as they trudged up a filthy street of Les
Tenebres; a weak smog hung in the air from the many chimneys churning out
smoke, the stench of raw sewage was choking, and red lights glowed malevolently
from every other… establishmentin sight.She followed the lead of the others and
muttered “Lumos” to see through the half darkness.
 
“Look at that pathetic creature!” Blaise jeered as they passed a wizard who was
slumped up against a wall, a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey held loosely in
his hand. He was covered in mud, vomit and faeces, barely conscious as his head
rolled and spittle drooled from his mouth. Many of the Death Eaters laughed and
Silas flung a rock at the wizard, causing him to sway and fall face down in the
mud as the hilarity mounted even further.
 
Much like the rest of the city now, the streets were gloomy, depressing and
rife with vice and depravity. In four short lunar cycles, the Half Blood
sections of the city were now flooded with opium dens, seedy taverns and
countless brothels. The brothels especially did a roaring trade as it was the
only way Half Blood wizards could have a woman of sorts seeing as all their own
were locked up in the Purification Institute. Substances which would normally
be banned in most of the wizarding wold such as opium, cannabis, Psilocybin
mushrooms, coca infused wine and laudanum were now widely available in these
verminous cesspits. The influx of these drugs lay at the feet of Masakh Shafiq,
a Pureblooded wizard who was a few years older than Astoria and was currently
annexing the Middle East in the Dark Lord’s name. There was said to be an
abundance of these toxic plants in that part of the world and Shafiq had sent
them over at the Dark Lord’s command with plans to expand this stratagem in all
occupied territory. Snape had been experimenting with the substances to make
them as potent and addictive as possible in order to control the vast amount of
Half Bloods that the Dark Lord now had at his command. Naturally many became
consumed quickly and thus were unlikely to stage a mutiny against the Dark
Order while they were enslaved to their toxic habits. They would forget the
families they had lost, many of whom were still in the clutches of the Dark
Order; they would fight and kill when commanded or they would be denied their
poison of choice. This rampant drug use was not limited to Half Blood’s,
however. Most Pure Blood’s partook in one way or another; indeed, Antonin
himself had developed a strong appetite for smoking cannabis leaves along with
his excessive amount of drinking.
 
The huge amounts of gold raised from the drugs and brothels went right into the
coffers of the Dark Order in order to fund the expansion of the Dark Lord’s
monstrous Empire. Very clever,Astoria thought dully as her boots sucked in the
sodden mud, very clever and cruel.Bruised and dead eyed Muggle women stared
blankly at her from behind panes of glass which glowed red from the lanterns
within. It had been Antonin’s idea to display them half naked in windows like
cuts of meat to lure in potential patrons. One girl who could not have been
more than fifteen was waving at the male Death Eaters, tugging on her underwear
and groping at her breasts; a vacant smile upon her face. Astoria turned away
from this nauseating sight but could not help looking up again when a great
roar of laugher erupted from the surrounding Death Eaters. Silas had been so
engrossed by the girl, his mouth agape, that he had walked straight into a
broken lamppost and almost fell.
 
“Later, Norton! Later!” Called Josiah Zabini who was still shaking with
laughter as they turned a corner to be faced with the magical perimeter that
separated the Half Blood and Pure Blood sections of the city.
 
“Who goes there?!” A voice called from the dim, red shadows. Astoria could make
out two lit wand tips and heard the snorting and swishing of tails she
associated with horses and unicorns. Sure enough, out of the shadows came two
mounted Half Bloods on dark unicorns, the beasts’ flanks heaving and lathered,
their legs caked in mud. “Oh, forgive us Dolohov” came the voice again that she
now recognised as James Clearwater’s which sounded far more nervous now. “We –
we thought it may have been another fight brewing with so many voices, last
night there was a brawl that lasted for three hours, five men are dead.”
 
Astoria saw her husband wave his hand in careless dismissal. “I am aware of it
Clearwater, you will have more watchmen in due course.”
 
“That is most generous Sir, you have my thanks. May we have your leave to go?”
 
Antonin jerked his head in assent after which Clearwater and his companion
wheeled their mounts around and trotted off, two abreast up another grim street
and out of sight. Astoria knew that these watchmen were tasked with keeping
order for when things got out of hand in the slums. The simple fact that they
were mounted gave an immediate advantage when breaking up duels and fights, not
to mention that unicorns were invulnerable to many common curses and jinxes.
 
Stepping into the Pureblood side of the city was like stepping into another
world. Everything here was pristine, and Astoria could still smell fresh wood,
paint and plaster in the air as some ‘construction’ was still ongoing. There
were dozens of mounted watchmen here and others flew around upon broomsticks so
that they might “Protect the most deserving of wizards”as the Dark Lord put it.
The Dark Lord had wasted no time in imposing his mark upon Paris; flags
emblazoned with the Dark Mark flew everywhere, there were large and imposing
statues of snakes and the Dark Lord himself littered all over the centre of the
city as a permanent reminder of who ruled here now. A new Purification
Institute was being constructed and the city now boasted a gigantic
amphitheatre. There were plans to have some of the largest streets devoted to
the Dark Arts, others would have luxurious eateries and shops where Purebloods
could go and waste their gold – again, with every last Galleon going to the
Dark Order. Astoria and her fellows marched toward the colossal building that
drew the eye; his Lordship had constructed a formidable fortress for himself
where the Eiffel tower had once stood. The place was quite enormous with
countless towers and turrets taller than the sky itself. It was fashioned in
shiny stone as black as jet and the façade was adorned with skulls that had
snakes slithering through their eye sockets and mouths. When Astoria chanced to
look upward she saw the massive shadow of the Amazonian Vipertooth that guarded
the top most tower which was lost in thick grey cloud.
 
A Dementor glided down toward them as they stood on the threshold. “We are here
to see the Dark Lord, at his own request.” Antonin said calmly.
 
The Dementor pointed in the direction of the fort with a scabbed, rotting hand
and a spiked drawbridge came smashing down in front of them so that they might
enter. With Antonin at their head, the Death Eaters trooped across the bridge
over the fathoms deep moat which was teeming with Inferi and Horned Serpents.
The fort was surrounded by thick stone walls that went on for leagues; the
heads of Muggles and disobedient Half Bloods speared on pikes for all to see
what befell those who dared challenge the Dark Order. Dementors stood sentry at
every entrance point or else glided around the fortress so that the air
surrounding the place was freezing cold. They passed under a huge archway which
had the words “MAGIC IS MIGHT” carved into the stone. Astoria shuddered and
made her way deeper into the grim stronghold alongside the others. When they
entered the Fortress the chill abated somewhat, but only a little. Nothing
about this place will ever be warm.There were no windows in this cavernous
structure which gave the place a foreboding and oppressive air. Fire sconces
burned dimly in the wall, statues of monsters and malevolent beings were
everywhere, as were the countless silk hangings of the Dark Mark and the
Slytherin banner as they made their way further inside. Dark artefacts stood in
alcoves and Astoria averted her eyes from a crystal box which contained
Potter’s stuffed head. Muggle slaves stood silent and blank eyed by the walls,
only moving to dip their heads to the Death Eaters who swept past them,
ignoring them utterly.
 
They finally reached a floor situated deep within the fortress and made for an
archway in the likeness of a monster’s gaping mouth where there was a low
murmur of talk drifting down the corridor toward them. Sure enough, all the
other Pure Blooded Death Eaters were stood behind their chairs, waiting. Aaemon
Burke was stood next to the Dark Lord’s throne at the head of the table, his
unctuous smile firmly in place and looking eager. Scarcely a few minutes had
past when his Lordship came striding into the room, Nagini draped around his
shoulders. Wordlessly, he sat and held out a large white hand in the direction
of Burke. The stooped, greasy wizard shuffled forward and handed the Dark Lord
a scroll of sealed parchment; he took it without comment and unfurled it with a
flick of his wand. Those slit pupiled, red eyes moved from left to right as the
Dark Lord read what was on the parchment. By the time he was finished, his
lipless mouth was curved in a terrible smile.
 
“It seems that a civil war has broken out in Spain.” Came the high, cold voice
to a ripple of chuckles and laughter, with some of the Death Eaters murmuring
‘To the Dark Order.’ “Yes, these Spaniardsare fighting among themselves like
children because of me,Lord Voldemort. They have seen what has befallen France
and that has them running like whipped dogs. However, there is some
disagreement between those who wish to put up a fight and those who think they
should submit to me which is the main source of the fighting. See the terror
Lord Voldemort instils with his powers, Death Eaters. This is all well and
good, but Spain does not interest me at present. I have commanded Dracula to
unleash a more powerful strain of the plague down upon them to… stoke the fire
if you will.” His awful grin broadened as the other Death Eaters chuckled at
the notion. My main concern is that of Germany just now.”
 
Astoria inwardly groaned. Germany.Germany was the Dark Lord’s latest obsession
in his relentless quest for power. It was the most magically populous country
in all of Europe and boasted vast jewel mines, thus his Lordship would have
even more new ‘subjects’ and he could extract every last nugget of gold and
shards of gems from their land to fund his brutal regime even further. The Dark
Lord had sent Gustave Clément’s mutilated head to the German Minister for Magic
as both a threat and warning. She was said to be a fierce old witch, but his
Lordship was yet to receive a reply from his grisly message. Furious at this
silence, the Dark Lord had responded by commanding the forces stationed in
Eastern Europe to exterminate German border towns and villages. He had also
used his serpentine powers to awaken the monstrous Hydra once again to
terrorise the German coast, killing thousands.
 
Well at least this meeting was not long as was usual and certainly not as
gruesome as some I have been forced to endure thus far Astoria mused as she
pushed up from her chair after the Dark Lord had dismissed them. Sometimes the
Dark Lord would summon them down to the dungeons and torture chambers and show
them all manner of his monstrous experiments. His Lordship had bred Vampires to
Werewolves in an attempt to create a new species of monster to add to his
terrifying army. Astoria had been horrified when she first beheld one of these
creatures; it had had a human form, but it was covered in hair and had great
long fangs like a Vampire’s. The beast was so aggressive that it had to be kept
in an enchanted cage to keep it from attacking them all. It had growled and
hissed and thrown itself against the bars in an attempt to slash their faces.
The Dark Lord had found a way of growing the creatures outside of a womb and
kept them in huge jars as they developed, pumping them full of aging potion so
as to speed up their growth. This was Dark magic of the most shocking and
heinous kind, it went completely against nature, but what was that to maniac
like the Dark Lord? There is nothing he will not do to enhance his powers and
the Dark Order’s army if it gave him the advantageAstoria thought grimly as a
carriage pulled by unicorns drew closer toward them as they crossed the
drawbridge. Even she had to admit that this business of walking and taking
carriages everywhere was most cumbersome. She hoped the apparition ban would be
lifted in due course as she settled herself grudgingly into the velvet interior
of the carriage.
The journey ‘home’ such as it was now was not a long one, for the Pure Bloods
had carved up huge portions of the city and built palatial homes for themselves
which surrounded the area around the Dark Lord’s Fortress. After a few minutes
they came to huge silver gates emblazoned with two poisonously green King
Cobras entwined about a jewelled sword; the Dolohov family coat of arms. They
swung open at once to reveal a long sweeping gravel path lined by trees and
thousands of flower bushes. As the trees began to clear, the huge manor done of
all pale blue stone and carved white marble loomed high above. Four colossal
pillars dominated the building’s façade with a carving of the Dark Mark placed
above them. An ostentatious fountain in solid silver drew the eye upon the
greenery directly in front of the manor, splashing softly as they creaked past.
When Astoria and her husband strode into the opulent entrance hall decorated in
green and silver they were greeted by Granger who Antonin had bought off Marcel
de Sade and three Muggle slaves gifted to them by the Dark Lord.
 
“Mudblood.” Antonin stated harshly and without preamble. “I command you to get
my wife ready at once for our engagement three hours hence.” He kissed Astoria
upon the forehead before spinning on his heel and marching down the huge hall
in the direction of the drawing room. Granger scurried up the baroque staircase
in her haste to obey and Astoria followed, dragging her feet.
 
Two and a half hours later Astoria was ready for the ordeal to come. Diamonds
sparkled at her neck and she was garbed in a gown of crushed royal blue velvet
trimmed with ermine while a matching ostrich plumed hat sat upon her head.
Astoria was not fond of hats, she found them cumbersome and only donned them
for spring and summer weddings. A thick silver wolf stole graced her shoulders;
Astoria did not mind fur, but this piece was a grim one. The beast’s head was
still attached to the pelt, and its eyes had been replaced with yellow diamonds
that sparkled up at her accusingly; but wear it she must for it had been a gift
from Antonin. Astoria sighed and gave herself the once over in the mirror
before sweeping from the room.
 
When she approached the top of the grand staircase she saw that Antonin,
Yaxley, Elizabeth and Adelaide were waiting in the hall reclining on chairs and
sipping wine. A Muggle slave was standing up against the wall clutching a
silver tray. “Ah there she is.” Antonin called up to her lazily as both he and
Yaxley got to their feet. “You look lovely today, my lady.”
 
After gliding down the last step Astoria greeted Yaxley first after her husband
as custom dictated before kissing Adelaide and Elizabeth on the cheeks. “We had
best make haste.” Yaxley declared as he looked down at a jewelled golden pocket
watch. “Do not want to be late, do we? I daresay I would be most displeased to
miss any of this grand show his Lordship has so generously organised for us.”
He and Antonin leered at each other knowingly while Astoria’s flesh prickled as
her husband took her waist and led her to the front doors.
 
Once all were seated within the carriage, the unicorns set off at a brisk trot;
the highly intelligent creatures knew exactly where they were bound. They
trotted down the leafy avenue lined with gated mansions, past the Dark Lord’s
looming fortress and past Half Bloods who were toiling away constructing more
buildings that had been commanded by the Dark Lord. Astoria, Elizabeth and
Adelaide were silent; they knew better than to speak without invitation in
Antonin and Yaxley’s company. They had to pass through a Half Blood slum area
to get to the amphitheatre. Astoria had never seen the slums in the day before
and had no wish to, but her curiosity could not keep her from peeking out from
behind the silk curtains. She wished she had not, for what she saw then was
naught but squalor and misery; a great gaping wound that could not be ignored.
No grass grew in this dark and putrid labyrinth. The narrow canyons of those
tall, narrow, blackened buildings blocked out the sun and all colour had been
leached away excepting for the dull greys of smoke and soot. Eyes watched their
carriage greedily through broken window panes as they rolled past, and she
watched in horror as a ragged looking wizard approached a filthy butchers stall
that was selling greenish, frightful looking cuts of meat not fit for even a
dog to eat. This is truly a living hell,Astoria thought as wizards congregated
outside of taverns pulling on opium pipes while giant rats scurried up and down
the streets, drawing little to no notice of the wretched inhabitants as they
streamed in the direction of the amphitheatre.
 
When they approached the amphitheatre itself, it swallowed them all in shadow.
It was all of dark stone and seemed to crouch upon the hill which it had been
built like some great black monster, the Dark Mark glittering in the sky above.
There were many other carriages coming and going from the place and Astoria saw
the glimmer of rich furs trailing behind ladies, the extravagant hats upon
their heads; the exotic feathers dancing in the light wind as they clutched the
arms of their husbands or indeed, one another. Antonin held out his hand and
Astoria took it, stepping daintily from the carriage as their party began to
approach the monstrous structure. They made for an elaborately carved archway
inlaid with snakes as others vanished into its shadowy depths. When she drew
closer, Astoria saw a large sign above the archway that read “PURE BLOOD ONLY.
HALF BLOOD ENTRANCES TO THE EAST AND WEST.”Astoria grimaced and stepped through
the magical perimeter which glowed green when she crossed the threshold. The
place was sumptuously decorated but gloomy as dim fire sconces in the
likenesses of snakes flickered upon the silken walls. Corridors and stairs
branched off in all directions, the air was chill, and the place was oddly
silent giving an ominous feeling of foreboding. A Muggle slave came creeping
out from the shadows and gestured with his hand, his head bowed and not daring
to speak. They all turned to see that a black iron lift had appeared in front
of them, a faint glow radiating from its ceiling. The thing looked more like a
cage. Before anyone could utter, the door swung open with a whine of metal;
despite it being newly wrought. The journey in the lift was short as they
travelled toward the centre of the amphitheatre.
 
 Antonin was jesting with Yaxley as they stepped out into another gloomy
corridor, the muffled sounds of shouts and cheering audible through a thick
steel door ahead of them. When they entered the amphitheatre in earnest there
was a burst of noise from a howling crowd of drunken wizards seated on stone
steps. Their own seats were not so crude, however; the box where the Pure
Bloods sat was sealed off from the rest of the crowd made up of Half Bloods,
Werewolves and Vampires. The view from the box of the sunken pit covered in
sand was perfect so the spectators were very up close and would not miss a
moment. It had silken green and silver hangings with matching gilded, velvet
chairs that were soft and comfortable. Sitting highest above all the other
seats in the box was an imposing black throne that Astoria recognised from
Slytherin Castle in Britain. It was empty however; the Dark Lord waits on no
one to be sure.Naturally there were numerous wines along with cold meats,
fruit, cheese and nuts on silver platters that hovered all about the place.
Indeed, Astoria saw the massive form of Philippe Rousseau a few rows down,
guzzling wine and stuffing every morsel he could reach into his fat face. She
and Antonin were to be seated in the back row right underneath the throne with
the rest of the married couples – with the exception of Bellatrix Lestrange, to
be sure. After Yaxley had sent Adelaide off further down in the box with some
female cousins, Astoria looked at the glowing pieces of parchment hovering over
each elaborate chair. With a stab of revulsion, she saw that they had been
placed right next to Marcel and Ediva de Sade. She tried not to cringe away as
Marcel greeted her in his normal lascivious manner and could not help but
notice Antonin’s gaze crawling all over Ediva as he kissed her hand – after all
she was only in her middling thirties and still comely. Indeed, it was common
gossip that Ediva de Sade was with child.
 
The story seemed to prove true as when Antonin and Marcel shook hands, Astoria
heard him murmur, “Marcel you sly old bastard, still got it in you, eh? Well
done my friend, hopefully a boy this time.” Marcel smirked, his pale eyes
gleaming, but made no reply as they all took their seats.
 
Theodore Nott and Dashiell Selwyn were the last to arrive and by their lurching
steps and sniggers of laughter, Astoria surmised that they had already started
drinking. Indeed, she could have almost thanked Antonin when he handed her a
goblet of deep red spiced wine and found the wine half gone after scarcely a
few minutes. I will need it to get through this awful day.There was a murmur of
excited talk in the box when everyone was seated, but those in the crowd
continued to shout and howl worse than ever. All noise was annihilated however
when the deep, deafening sounds of a horn ripped through the air and seemed to
vibrate throughout the ears.
 
The horn sounded six more times before Astoria heard a high, cold voice come
from directly behind her, “Death Eaters!”Everyone turned to gape at the Dark
Lord; Silas wheeled about so quickly that she rather thought he had cricked his
neck. “Today marks the first official day of my victory. In the short time we
have occupied Paris, the New World order is already flourishing. Your generous
Lord brings you these games to celebrate the first of many victories as we
continue change the world for the better.”The Dark Lord swiped his wand through
the air and screeched,“Let the games begin!”
 
Mingled with the roar of the crowd and the applause of the Pure Bloods there
was a great bang and a set of double doors burst open on the Western side of
the deep pit. A hoard of half naked, screaming Muggle men women and children
were running about the sand like trapped ants with some attempting to climb the
hopelessly high walls that encircled the pit. No less than half a dozen
Erumpents had come charging in after them, their huge curved horns glowing as
they bellowed angrily and tossed their heads. There was an eruption of laughter
at the sight; Marcel was bouncing up and down in his seat like a child,
shrieking with glee. Astoria heard Prince Gyasi’s deep chortle somewhere to her
left and Antonin was laughing so hard with Yaxley that wine sprayed from their
mouths and noses. Even Elizabeth was chuckling politely behind her hand and
Astoria hastened to imitate her, lest anyone notice her lack of mirth. But the
loudest and cruellest laughter came from the Dark Lord as he watched the
Muggles explode in a red tide of entrails and blood as they were forcefully
gored by the enraged Erumpents. Many Muggles were trampled, their gruesome
remains mashed into the sand by the Erumpents heavy hooves. Others managed to
escape death for a time by ducking and diving around the huge grey beasts, for
they could not manoeuvre quickly, such was their size. However, this only
seemed to add fire to the beasts’ fury and simply delayed the inevitable.
Astoria saw a Muggle boy make a quick escape from one Erumpent only to be faced
with another which promptly impaled him so viciously upon its horn that the boy
did not even explode, his body merely slid down the Erumpent’s horn toward its
face, blood spraying everywhere as his head rolled sickeningly. When all the
Muggles lay dead, the beasts slammed themselves against the wall of the pit in
an attempt to attack the spectators, but wizards on brooms appeared above them,
raining down spells to subdue the creatures.
 
As the unconscious Erumpents were heaved away by trolls, Marcel recovered
himself enough to say breathlessly, “We have Gyasi to thank for many of the
beasts performing today. Magnificent are they not? I knew my African friend
would be of much use to Lordship.” He glanced backward at his Master, but the
Dark Lord’s red, cat like eyes were fixed upon the bloodied sand, waiting for
whatever gruesome spectacle was to come next.
 
Astoria was expecting more terrified Muggles to appear, but no. Armand Fersen
came striding out onto the sand then; he was bare chested to show off his many
tattoos and muscles, clad in naught but dark breeches and heavy boots. There
was a great roar from the crowd as he postured and strutted about the pit,
treading carelessly on the bodies of the slain Muggles. Fersen drew his wand,
directing it at the Eastern wall of the pit. Once again there was a great bang
and for a moment, Fersen was lost from view in thick black smoke. Astoria was
filled with fear as she heard an awful growling sound over a half human voice
that was speaking in some bizarre foreign tongue. Her worst fears were realised
when the smoke cleared, and she saw a fully grown manticore snarling and
speaking malevolently as its fiery eyes glared at the wizard standing before
it. Huge and terrible, the manticore had a face that was almosthuman, but no
normal human had ever looked thus. Its teeth were long and sharp, and it had a
long red mane that was matted and wild. Its lion like body with a lethal
scorpion’s tail served to make the manticore a fully fledged monster of the
worst kind. Fersen did not look the least bit afraid, in fact he was smirking
as he aimed a curse at the creature which ricocheted off its head and blew
apart a portion of the stone wall. Astoria could not hear the incantations that
Fersen was uttering over the din being made by the crowd as the manticore
charged, screaming in its inhuman tongue, its poisonous scorpions tail flailing
about dangerously. Just as the creature’s jaws were about to reach Fersen he
turned on the spot and vanished, re appearing behind the manticore, laughing at
its confusion as it looked about wildly for him. He taunted the beast with
another curse which dealt it an angry red welt on its back as it skidded to a
halt, screeching in pain as it whirled around to face its tormentor. This is a
frightening, dangerous beast to be sure, but it seems so cruel to taunt it in
this fashion,Astoria thought as the manticore flew at Fersen again who deftly
rolled as the creature leapt upward, claws outstretched. The manticore gave
another howl of pain as it jumped over Fersen and Astoria saw a deep gash in
its chest as it struggled to right itself upon landing. This spectacle went on
for some time until the manticore was bleeding from a hundred cuts, though it
still refused to give up the fight. However, Fersen then misjudged the distance
when the manticore swiped at him furiously and blood fountained from his
shoulder. There was a great gasp and several groans as Fersen stumbled,
clutching at his maimed shoulder, but the manticore was upon him once more and
they both went crashing to the ground in a tangle of fur, flesh and fangs. It
was not clear what was happening as Fersen rolled in the dirt with the beast as
the dust and sand whipped up around the struggling pair. The manticore gnashed
its teeth and was making terrible yowling noises, savagely jabbing its tail at
Fersen as it tried to land a lethal blow. There was a terrible drawn out scream
that sounded like a thousand nails on a chalkboard and the manticore was
thrashing about, covered in blood and Astoria saw the glimmer of a blade when
Fersen drew back his hand to stab the creature repeatedly. The screams lowered
in pitch and Fersen was on his knees now, his back to them and he seemed to be
doing something as the crowd whooped and shrieked with glee. The grisly truth
was soon revealed however when he turned around to face them, red from head to
heel. Clutched in one of his big hands was the huge heart of the manticore,
bloody and dripping; a great ugly gash running down the creature’s chest as it
lay upon the sand, dead. Fersen raised the beast’s heart high over his head as
it continued to pump furiously, great rivers of blood running down his muscular
arm as the crowd went mad for him. Fersen then took a huge bite of the heart
and tore off a piece with his teeth before chewing in apparent relish, his
mouth bared in a terrible grin as blood covered half his face. Many Death
Eaters exchanged amused looks as Fersen strode from the sand, revelling in his
victory and Astoria heard Silas cackling madly in the background.
 
“Mark my words, all the little girls will be getting wet for our dear Fersen
after that heroic display.” Came Ediva de Sade’s French lilt from the excited
chatter of voices and shrieks of laughter.
 
“Even you mon amour?” Marcel said to his wife teasingly as he grabbed her
between the thighs and offered her a sliver of apple from his dagger as she
giggled like a girl.
 
Their vulgarity was put to an end by a great trumpeting sound and when Astoria
looked up she could not help but gasp, she had only ever seen drawings of these
beasts; much less pictures. Two huge mûmakils were lumbering out onto the sand
from opposite ends of the pit. There were towers lashed to their backs filled
with what seemed to be bound Muggles struggling in vain to get free and
shrieking at the top of their lungs. The beasts were grey in colour and almost
thirty feet tall. They had long trunks, large flapping ears and four curved
lethal looking tusks that looked like they were the thickness of a man’s body.
They trumpeted angrily at one another until one mûmakil slammed into the other
so that the beast stumbled clumsily to the right with many Muggles becoming
dislodged from the tower and falling to their deaths, screaming. The mûmakil
that had been struck turned its great ugly head and launched itself at the
other, bellowing with rage. The elephantine beasts were locked in combat as
their tusks tangled and their heads swayed wildly as they shoved one another
back and forth while more terrified Muggles fell to their deaths from the
towers.
 
“Two thousand Galleons on the beast to the right!” Jugson roared as he shoved
himself clumsily to his feet, red faced and reeling. He was splashing wine
everywhere and had a huge fistful of gold coins which spilled between his
fingers as he leered.
 
Avery chortled derisively. “I think not Jugson, look!” The larger mûmakil to
the left raked the others face with its sharp tusks leaving a deep red slash
through the tough grey skin. “I shall raise you four thousand and winner keeps
all?” He yelled back, jangling a velvet pouch of gold and grinning broadly.
 
Their shouted conversation was drowned out by a great roar which seemed to
rattle Astoria’s very bones. She fleetingly thought of a dragon, but no. Four
Nundu’s had come slinking onto the sand, spitting and snarling furiously, their
sleek, fluid bodies crouched low to the ground. Nundu’s were like leopards,
only much, much larger and a hundred times more terrifying. They were yellow
with black spots and covered in spines with razor sharp teeth and claws. When
they roared, the spiny flesh around their necks fanned out alarmingly, making
them look even more frightening. The Nundu’s launched themselves at the
mûmakils at once, their eyes rolling as they roared and bounded forward. They
started snapping at the mûmakils ankles and darting underneath them to deal
them bloody slashes on their stomachs. The mûmakils bellowed in rage and
attempted to charge down the Nundu’s but the beasts were simply too quick – and
intelligent –  for them to strike a blow. The Nundu’s seemed to be working
together; one would leap out in front of a mûmakil to distract it while another
bit or slashed at the beasts to weaken them; the great lumbering behemoths
could not seem to puzzle it out. Astoria thought vaguely that neither Jugson
nor Avery would win their wager, for the Nundu’s looked as though they would
bring down both mûmakils such was the savagery and efficiency of their attack.
One Nundu finally succeeded in clawing up the larger mûmakil’s thick leg and
savaging the trapped Muggles within the tower. Many were dead before they hit
the ground as they were killed by the vicious creature’s poisonous breath. The
mûmakil trumpeted in pain and fury, it reared slightly causing the tower to
slide dangerously. The Nundu hissed and dug its claws in deeper still as it
clung to the beast’s rump as dark blood began to ooze down the mûmakil’s body.
At the exact moment the mûmakil threw back its head, the other charged straight
at it, one of its lethal tusks now lodged in its fellow’s throat. The scream
the mûmakil made was almost human as it fell to its knees and the Nundu’s
pressed their advantage. Two leapt upon the beast; one started tearing the
flesh from its body while the other cracked one of its huge tusks with powerful
jaws and fangs. There was a great red tide as blood washed everywhere from the
mûmakil, the roar of the crowd mingling oddly with the beast’s dying cries. It
gave one last groan and went crashing to the ground as the screaming Muggles in
the tower were thrown in all directions as they made contact with the magical
barrier that protected the crowd to shrieks of laughter. A Nundu was trapped
underneath the great grey beast, a shard of bone poking out from its front leg;
howling and hissing until its last breath as blood streamed from its cat green
eyes. The surviving Nundu was beginning to feast upon the flesh of mûmakil and
Muggle alike, blood leaking from its jaws as it emerged with a great chunk of
lung in its mouth. The other two Nundu’s were slashing at the other mûmakil’s
legs trying to bring it down as the beast swung its head violently trying to
impale its tormentors. All of a sudden, more shrieking Muggles were released
onto the sand causing complete chaos. The Nundu’s, distracted from savaging the
mûmakil gave great roars of fury and leapt into the crowd of Muggles on the
ground, striking down many with their venomous breath or else slashing their
faces open with those cruel claws, blood fountaining all over the place to
darken the sand below.
 
Astoria was jolted out of her horrified trance when Antonin then threw an arm
around her shoulder and drew her close to him; reeking of cannabis and gin. As
soon as he spoke, Astoria could tell he was drunk. “Mmh… why must you torment
me so by looking so gorgeous my lady?” He murmured in her ear before planting
kisses up her neck which made her blood run cold. His hand travelled
suggestively up her thigh, his mouth right next to her ear. “I am going to make
you sing all night my love, would you like that?”
 
Astoria’s stomach roiled but she smiled sweetly for Antonin and grasped his arm
briefly. “It would please me to please my Lord husband.” She said, knowing that
was what he wanted to hear. Indeed, Antonin gave a satisfied smirk and drew her
closer still so that she was leaning against his chest as he continued to watch
the barbarous display with cruel amusement.
 
The savagery went on for hours as the Death Eaters drank fine wine and laughed
at the suffering in front of them. No one had bothered to clear up the
butchered remains of all that had died upon the sand, so the pit was now choked
with corpses. Half Blood wizards from the army who had been sentenced to death
by the Dark Lord were compelled to fight one another with the promise that the
last man standing would be granted his freedom. Only one wizard had succeeded
thus far, and he had been so badly wounded as he was dragged from the sand that
Astoria felt that he would be lucky to live through the night. Muggles were
made to fight too, they were armed with the weapons of their kind; whips,
spears, guns and axes so that they might hack and mutilate one another to death
while the drunken crowd howled for more blood. A brown skinned Muggle man had
fought off and killed all those who had attacked him, and he was the only one
left. However, all this earned the poor Muggle was having a Sabre Toothed
Panther set upon him by Marcus Flint rather than the freedom he was promised.
He was ripped to pieces before their very eyes, his screams of pain lost in the
hooting and jeering of the crowd. Astoria watched as Muggles were thrown into
huge vats of boiling oil by giants with many survivors trying to climb out;
burned and screaming as the skin fell from their flesh. Half naked children ran
in all directions as they were savaged by Quintaped’s; terrible five legged
beasts covered in reddish brown hair with rows of sharp teeth and yellow slit
eyes. Two Muggle boys of eight were forced to fight each other to the death
with knives and hatchets. Wizards mounted on unicorns chased down men, women
and children while mercilessly hexing them in their backs until they became too
exhausted to run, eventually collapsing in the sand where they were trampled by
the equines’ powerful hooves. There were a few Muggles who tried to end their
lives on their own terms by flinging themselves in front of a wand or a
rampaging beast. For ‘disturbing the show’ the Dark Lord commanded his trolls
to cut off their arms and legs to leave them to bleed to death upon the sand.
Astoria felt faint, she could not take much more of this bloodthirsty display.
It was growing hot under the silken canopies and most within were very drunk or
else out of their minds on drugs. She took another swallow of wine to dull her
wits as Antonin, Yaxley and Marcel were shrieking at the top of their voices
and Blaise fell backward down the stairs as he attempted to get up from his
seat to gales of laughter. Every face was twisted in grotesque merriment at the
relentless bloody show; Elizabeth lay in a wine soaked sleep and Rookwood was
drunkenly bellowing for the trolls to “Fuck the Muggle whores”while the devious
Lestrange brothers collected gold gambling wagers, their faces alight with
savage triumph. Over all this din the Dark Lord was screaming and screaming
with malicious laughter; he was fulfilling his heart’s desire – the torture,
humiliation and murder of the Muggles he hated so much and his complete
dominance over them. Astoria felt sick as she watched a huge troll dragging a
young woman by the hair as she kicked and screamed while the beast itself wore
a terrible grin on its ugly face. Truly, out of the ashes has sprouted a world
more savage and brutal than Astoria could have ever imagined in her deepest,
darkest nightmares. With the Dark Lord’s relentless lust for power and control,
she feared that this was only the beginning.
Chapter End Notes
     The amphitheatre bit in this chapter was inspired by Romans/
     Gladiators etc. and the segregation of Half Blood's is inspired by
     racial segregation in the States in the 50's and South Africa in the
     90's.
     Mumakils are creatures created by the one and only JRR Tolkien and
     are his intellectual property - https://www2.le.ac.uk/offices/press/
     images-1/2015/mumakil.jpg/image_view_fullscreen
     Again for those who haven't seen Fantastic Beasts:
     Nundu - http://i.reddituploads.com/
     4f182c53326247dba9df07551d23bda9?fit=max&h=1536&w=1536&s=8222e2273862e359a78831cd608cc98f
     Quintaped - http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/
     Quintaped?file=Quintaped_FB-2017.jpeg
     The Louvre is a real place in Paris - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
     Louvre#/media/File:Louvre_Museum_Wikimedia_Commons.jpg
***** XXX. - The Viper's Nest *****
Chapter Summary
     Hi everyone, so this chapter explores the persecution of Muggles in
     Pureblood Society now that the war in France is effectively 'over'
     and a glimpse of what power crazy Lord V's plans are for the future.
     Warning: Graphic and distressing material
     Same disclaimer applies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Dark Lord was in a high mood of late; for no wizard in history had ever
amassed so much power and conquered these many countries before as he had done.
The building blocks of his Lordship’s twisted vision were falling slowly into
place; the Pure Bloods were more prosperous than ever and everyone else was
doomed to short lived, miserable existences. Even so, it seemed as though his
insatiable lust for power could not be sated; for he had set his cruel sights
on crushing the rest of Europe and beyond. In just two lunar cycles or so, the
Death Eaters stationed in Eastern Europe had brought Italy to its knees in a
bloody takeover that left over half a million slain. After what had befallen
Italy, Switzerland yielded without even putting up a fight, the Swiss Minister
had served up the country to the Dark Order with pleas for mercy, but naturally
he was granted none. The Death Eaters still burned down villages, plundered
cities, enslaved their people and raped their women. Minister Yildriz had been
dispatched to the Middle East to aid Masakh Shafiq in savagely plundering Syria
which was the latest country to be in open war under the Dark Lord’s rule.
 
As the shadow of the Dark Order continued to engulf Europe it naturally brought
the worst kind of Dark wizards crawling out from the woodwork, eager to be a
part of the terror and monstrosity that the Dark Lord had caused. Like bees to
honey,Astoria thought grimly. Prince Gyasi had summoned packs of mercenaries
from all the corners of Africa; queer witches and wizards who covered
themselves in gold and had jewels pierced through their cheeks. A murderous
Italian wizard named Adalberto Malvagità had also been granted access to France
three days past. It was whispered that he had committed more than a hundred
Muggle slayings and had evaded the Italian Ministry of Magic for close to a
decade and a half. There was the Moroccan oddity Akhmed bin Khalid who
specialised in Inferius,Rostyslav Andrukhovych from Ukraine who enjoyed burning
his victims alive, or the terrifying Hiroaki Jaakuna from Japan who ate the
flesh of his enemies and performed shocking and atrocious Dark magic rituals
with their corpses. Again, and again they came to pay homage to the Dark Lord
and to lay their wands down at his service. There were so many that Astoria had
forgotten most of their names and despite some of their strange and frightening
appearances but they all had one thing in common; they were all pure evil.
Monsters. Thus, it was small wonder that they got along so well with the Death
Eaters who welcomed them with open arms.
 
“Lot six!” Screeched Silas’ reedy voice, magically magnified so that his shrill
tone set Astoria’s teeth on edge even more than usual, snapping her back into
the moment. She was seated with all the other witches on hastily erected,
tiered seats under a velvet canopy in a large stone square, the Dark Lord’s
Fortress looming high above them. They looked out onto a wooden platform and
sipped wine, casually watching the spectacle in front of them. The male Death
Eaters were crowded around the foot of the platform, wands in hands. Silas was
striding up and down the platform, the wood creaking as he shrieked
maliciously, in his element as he hounded the ragged Muggle man standing in the
centre. He was armed with a brutal whip, a long, cruel piece of stiff leather
with a sharp metal claw attached to the end. “Here we have a male specimen of
twenty nine years.”Silas shrilled. And just because he could, he brought the
lash down hard across the man’s chest causing him to howl in pain, a sheet of
blood oozing from the wound while the surrounding Death Eaters hooted with
laughter. “This creature is strong, so he will be ideal for working in the
stables or any similar such place. He is suited to heavy lifting and should be
able to work for long hours, a worthy purchase indeed to add to one’s clutch of
slaves. Shall we start the bidding at two thousand Galleons?”There was a great
burst of talk as the wizards jostled one another with many raising their wands.
 
“Two thousand and five hundred!” Clarence Avery shouted over the din.
 
His wand glowed green but changed almost immediately to red when Jugson
countered “Four thousand!”
 
Silas was talking so fast to keep up with the bids and counter bids that his
words were barely discernible, and his voice was becoming shriller and shriller
such was his excitement. “Four thousand from Jugson, do I hear five? Five
thousand from Selwyn – no six thousand from Rookwood, can someone make it
eight? Eight thousand from my boy Theodore!”
 
The Muggle man eventually was sold for nine thousand to the Zabini brothers;
their love of breeding magnificent unicorn mounts was well known but they were
not about to ruin their perfect clothes grubbing about in stables – that was
for their new slave to do now.
 
“We have something very special next, boys. Troll! Bring the whore.”There was a
great upswing of whistling and jeering as a lumbering troll dragged a young
witch onto the auction block. She had an iron manacle around her neck and was
dressed in naught but rags which exposed some of her bruised, naked skin. The
male Death Eaters were calling out obscene suggestions as she hung her head,
terrified. “Yes, today gentlemen we have a rare find. A female of approximately
twenty one years, captured in Italy a fortnight ago. This Half Blood has been
rejected by the Purification Institute for being barren and the Dark Lord has
given his leave for her to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She is no
maid, but rather comely and exotic, look!”Silas jabbed the witch very hard with
the coiled whip in his hand to make her hold up her head, but she did not stir.
Those mismatched eyes of his narrowed in anger and he shoved the handle of the
whip up under her chin so that she was looking directly into the leering faces
of her potential owners and Astoria gasped. She heard Elizabeth and Adelaide,
who were seated either side of her, do the same; they had been in her year at
Hogwarts after all. Hestia Carrow on the other hand, who was seated a few rows
downward, let out a bark of cruel laughter. It was Cho Chang, the former
Ravenclaw seeker and love interest of Harry Potter. Cho had always been
slender, but she was positively gaunt now, her eyes were red from crying and
she had a cut on her cheek, however her good looks were still visible from
behind the ruins. Astoria felt sorry for her as Silas tore open the front of
her ragged shift to expose her breasts and forced her closer to the crowd of
drunken Death Eaters as she cringed and tried to cover herself. Cold fingers
walked up Astoria’s neck as she heard the unmistakable sound of her husband’s
rough laughter just as Cho began to sob in earnest.
 
Silas ignored Cho’s outburst and turned back to the leering crowd. “Shall we
start the bidding at fifty thousand Galleons?”
 
Astoria turned her head sharply as she heard a great sniff to her right. For
the fourth time that morn, Elizabeth had drawn out a tiny golden vial and
tapped the white powder within onto the back of her hand before snorting it up
her nose.
 
Seeing that Astoria was watching her, Elizabeth held out the vial. “Will you
partake this time?”
 
“I told you, I do not care for it.” Astoria replied, her eyes straying back to
Cho briefly as she watched Elizabeth finish the rest with mounting disquiet,
silently cursing the Dark Lord.
 
The Dark Lord, with the connivance of Severus Snape had managed to produce a
fine white powder from coca infused wine which could easily be carried upon the
person. It aided in keeping wizards alert and awake for far longer than they
would normally be able to manage, thus it had proven useful on the battlefield
as the toxic cloud of the Dark Order spread over other countries. However, it
was highly addictive, and many witches and wizards used it for ‘fun’ – usually
at dinner parties or as an aphrodisiac behind closed doors to enhance their
lovemaking. Indeed, there had been more than a few occasions where Antonin had
insisted that she take it with him when he stumbled into their bedchamber at
night. Naturally Astoria had obeyed but she did not like it, the foul powder
burned her nose and made her head spin which served to make her feel even more
helpless as Antonin did whatever he wanted to her body as she lay there. Not
only that, but it served to increase her husband’s warped libido tenfold which
would prolong each awful episode of him shoving himself in and out of her every
night. Snape had dubbed the substance, ‘Powdered Essence of Coca Leaves’ but
Astoria had heard most people refer to it simply as ‘coca.’
 
Elizabeth dabbed her nose with a silken handkerchief scalloped with lace,
rolling her eyes – whose pupils had now shrunk to the size of pinpricks. “You
should tread carefully around that, Snape said it is unwise to take it too
regularly.” Astoria counselled her.
 
Elizabeth gave a tinkling laugh and tossed her chestnut tresses. “Oh, come now
Astoria, the effects are simply marvellous!” She lowered her voice considerably
then, “And it makes facing Corban in the bedchamber each night all the easier,
you should try it for yourself.” Astoria did not answer but pressed her lips
together and turned her attention back to the auction block. There was a ripple
of applause and murmuring around the witches while the wizards roared in
triumph.
 
“I cannot believe it, seventy thousand Galleons!”Silas screamed at the top of
his lungs. “McNair, will you counter Rabastan’s bid?”
 
McNair glared over at Rabastan who winked, and he turned back to Silas and
bellowed, “One hundred and fifty thousand Galleons!”
 
The wizards all cheered and shouted incoherently, urging McNair or Rabastan or
both on to continue their twisted bidding war, but Rabastan was shaking his
head and frowning and Astoria distinctly saw his mouth form the words. “No
way.”
 
At this, Silas screeched over the tumult, “This young filly for one hundred and
fifty thousand Galleons going once! Going twice!... SOLD! Walden, you may
collect your chattel when the bidding is done with.”
 
On and on it went; men, women and children were auctioned off, chiefly to be
house slaves. But as with Cho Chang, any young women were all sold as bed
slaves for the use of their new owners – though all of these subsequent girls
were Muggles and bought for lower sums. When it was all done with, Astoria
waited dutifully for her husband to come and get her as she watched a Troll
drag away a rolling cage full of sobbing Veela. They had been bought by Alecto
Carrow who oversaw a lavish brothel exclusively for the use of Pure Bloods in
the centre of the city. Astoria pitied them; Silas had gleefully intimated to
the crowd that they had all been made forcibly barren to prevent any births
that would result in ‘filthy half breeds.’ Antonin of course was a regular
visitor to all of these vile establishments as were the rest of the male Death
Eaters. He would sometimes stay out from morning till night while he wasted
what was rightfully her fortune on whores, drink, drugs and gambling. She knew
that the slaves in the brothel would suffer terribly at his hands, but she
could not help but breathe a sigh of relief when she was finally left at home
with Leo – it was the closest thing to freedom she had. He always comes back
though, always.Whether it was morning, noon or evenfall when he returned,
Antonin would haul her into bed and claim his marital rights to bed her for as
long and as often as he wished.
 
When Astoria returned home, evening dawned, and the sky was beginning to
darken, the Muggle slaves were scurrying about her bedchamber folding gowns and
locking away jewels in boxes. I could do this packing with a flick of my wand,
what does it serve to make them do it?She thought wearily as she watched the
two men and elderly woman work away but did not dare instruct them otherwise.
This evenfall they were getting ready to travel to the home of Philippe
Rousseau for at least a fortnight of drinking, hunting and revelry at his
palace. She was trying to keep Leo in hand as he squirmed in her arms which was
not aided by the fact that he was so heavy now and big for his age. He had been
sleeping when Antonin had commanded for him to be awoken and dressed for their
journey and he was tearful at being disturbed. Another Muggle slave was to her
right with the great navy and chrome pram that she barely used anymore; these
days Leo wanted to walk everywhere, but not this night.
 
“No!” Leo wailed as he stretched out his arms toward her as she settled him
onto on to the goose down cushions of the pram. “Me want Mama!”
 
“Mama is right here my love, see?” Astoria replied soothingly, kissing him on
the forehead. “I will be at your side the whole time, Mama is not going
anywhere.” That seemed to calm him, and Astoria fell in beside the elderly
Muggle woman as they swept from the room.
 
“You took your time!” Antonin snapped at her as they emerged in the great hall.
Leo flinched a little at the fury in his voice, but Antonin had not spared him
so much as a glance. “Come, or we shall be late.”
 
The tree lined avenue with its manors was crowded with carriages drawn by
Abraxan horses for the apparition ban was stillin place. There was a great deal
of noise as witches and wizards called to one another and the horses snorted
and stamped, flexing their wings impatiently. The carriages were large enough
to fit a score of them at least and Astoria followed Antonin to the carriage at
the head as Leo gripped the sides of his pram. He was sitting up and staring
inquisitively at everyone and everything his lilac eyes could reach. He is
curious, this little son of mine. When they had all been crammed inside,
Astoria placed Leo on her lap, but he remained restive; he would reach his
second year before long and this was most like a bore for him.
 
“Mama where are we going?” He asked loudly, drawing the attention of many in
the carriage – including Antonin who was swigging laudanum from a drinking
flask.
 
“Hush now, sweet one.” She whispered, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
“We are going to a friend of Papa’s, and you shall see Delphi there, won’t that
be splendid? Now close your eyes and try and sleep.”
 
“But Mama, Leo is not tired! I want –”
 
“Shh my love” Astoria broke in, shooting a nervous glance at Antonin. She could
almost feel herself wilting from the look her husband gave her, and when Leo
looked up at his Father his lilac eyes went huge and he pressed himself into
her furs. She gave her son’s small hand a squeeze to reassure him and he
returned her touch at once, holding on to her tightly. Antonin did not have
much contact with their son, but Leo was afraid of him all the same. On more
than one occasion Leo had seen Antonin raise his voice to her, heard the way he
spoke to her, but thankfully he had never seen him hit her… yet. Aside from
being scared into silence in Antonin’s presence, doubtless her baby boy had
heard Antonin’s drunken yells at night after returning from a brothel or
drinking parlour, or else him smashing up half the manor after he had blown
thousands of Galleons at the gaming tables. Astoria would curse herself daily
for not being able to protect Leo from such monstrosities; her son had a
mischievous side to him, but his truest nature was sweet and gentle – nothing
like his Father.
 
The home of Philippe Rousseau came as a surprise for Astoria when they arrived
scarcely an hour later. She had been expecting the fat ogre to live in some
gloomy stronghold like Dracula, but Rousseau’s Palace was… well, beautiful. The
palace itself was vast and looked like an illustration out of a child’s
storybook; it was all of pale gold and purest white with innumerable turrets
and whimsical carvings decorating the façade. It was surrounded by a stunning
valley that was positively teeming with life, unscathed by the savage war that
had devastated much of France. Flowers of every colour bloomed from flutter
bushes and rich orchards filled with fruit trees gave the air a pure sweetness.
There were innumerable fountains and freshwater pools containing brightly
coloured fish, while butterflies the size of dinnerplates beat their wings
softly as they drifted lazily through the vegetation. A softly flowing river
lined with trees flowed Eastward, it had a delicate looking bridge hanging
above which was covered in wisteria while golden swans basked on the farther
bank amongst thousands of bluebells. Who would have thought that such a
monstrous man lived in such a charming place?She thought musingly as they
strode toward the huge double doors of the palace while a rainbow peacock
shrieked at them. Astoria did not delude herself however, with this many
scheming and depraved Pure Blood aristocrats under one roof, stepping into
Philippe Rousseau’s abode would be nothing short of stepping into a viper’s
nest now, no matter how beautiful or vast.
 
Rousseau received them in his audience chamber; a great cavernous room with a
barrel vaulted ceiling which was covered with huge elaborate paintings in
equally elaborate gold frames. Great marble pillars framed the hall, gilt in
gold and studded with sparkling rubies while at least fifty House Elves lined
the walls. Rousseau was sprawled in a huge, carved chair at the head of the
hall and attended by a Veela woman clad in a glittering gown who was sat on a
lower, plainer chair, fawning over him. Naturally she was stunning with rich
brown curls, skin like cream and deep purple eyes.
 
“My friends!” Rousseau called as they all filed into the hall. “I trust naught
went amiss on your journey? Come, come!”
 
The children were promptly whisked away by Nurse Clayden and a group of
Imperioused, elderly Muggle slave women as many approached Rousseau and his
slender companion to greet him personally, as was tradition.
 
“Good eve to you, Rousseau.” Antonin announced, inclining his head to the fat
wizard when they were stood in front of him. “I believe you have been briefly
acquainted with my wife once before.” He gestured languidly at Astoria who
dutifully stepped forward and curtsied as Rousseau’s eyes crawled all over her.
 
“Ah yes,” Wheezed Rousseau, his face already flushed and ruddy from drink so
that the broken veins on his nose were brought into greater prominence. He
kissed her hand with his plump mouth and Astoria barley repressed a shudder at
the touch of his damp, pudgy flesh. “Yes, your wife is hard to forget,
Monsieur. You are a lucky man, she is splendid.” He leered, showing a mouth
full of crooked yellow teeth.
 
The Veela gave Antonin a mechanical smile and inclined her head; her eyes oddly
blank and unfocused. Astoria knew the Veela was a slave and not a bed warmer
because she had been branded with a tattoo under her right collarbone which
read: Property of PR ~ 132286.Due to the masses of newly enslaved Muggles under
the growing regime it was proving difficult to keep track of all of them, thus
the Dark Lord had decreed that slaves were to be tattooed with their owners’
initials and an identification number. Should they try to escape, the brand
would burn so badly that they would be rendered incapable of even moving due to
the agony it caused. This method was quite unlike what was employed against the
few surviving Mudbloods who were forced to wear an iron collar like Granger’s
to prevent them from using their ‘stolen magic’ against their Masters.
 
Rousseau could not fail to notice that the Veela was causing a stir among the
wizards and he raised his voice slightly over the chatter as House Elves weaved
squeakily through the legs of his guests, serving champagne. “Should you feel
the need, my friends, I have a score of these beautiful creatures like Darya
here,” He waved a fat hand carelessly at the Veela. “Just say the word and you
shall have one waiting in your bed, you shall not be disappointed I promise
you. These wonderful creatures have been trained in every act of pleasure, you
shall all be very pleased I am sure.” Silas was staring at Darya the Veela with
such avid intensity that he looked as though he was going to rip off her gown
and take her right there and then on the marble. The Zabini brothers leered and
Travers whispered something in the ear of Rabastan who smirked and nodded. “You
shall of course find your rooms ready and supper shall be sent to you,
forthwith.” Rousseau went on. “Be welcome my friends and rest easy, I daresay
you shall all want to be fresh and alert for the first hunttomorrow.” He gave
another yellow leer as the surrounding Death Eaters chuckled and Astoria’s
heart began to race nervously.
 
The riding habit Astoria donned the next morn was all of green and silver.
Antonin had insisted that she wear this particular one for ‘the hunt’ today,
despite the fact that it was far too elaborate to ride in for a long period of
time. It was heavily embroidered with silver thread scrollwork in the
likenesses of snakes; emeralds and diamonds sparkling between their coiling
bodies and encrusted on the sleeves and lapels of the jacket. Today would be no
true hunt however; Astoria knew that this so called hunt would not be chasing
down big game for the feast table, today the Death Eaters would pursue
different sorts of prizes. Her stomach roiled at the thought as she swept
through Rousseau’s opulent abode, her boots thudding softly on the
magnificently decorated marble.
 
When she stepped out into the crisp morning air she was greeted by Elizabeth
and Adelaide who had been lounging on a carved bench under a great cherry
blossom tree. Adelaide was radiant in red while Elizabeth stunned in royal
blue, their jewels winking in the weak sun. There was an elaborate silken and
tassled pavilion set upon the grass in the distance amidst Rousseau’s
fantastical gardens with a considerable crowd beneath it. Astoria recognised
Antonin at once, even though his back was to her, his build and height were an
instant giveaway to his identity. Her husband had risen early for once and had
gone off with Marcel de Sade and Yaxley so they might ‘prepare’ for the hunt
which would most like involve the three of them getting as drunk as they
possibly could beforehand.
 
“Good morrow to you Astoria.” Elizabeth called, smoothing her skirts as she
rose. “Ah, your habit today is simply divine, I need one like that. Corban
tells me that many craftsmen have been taken prisoner since Italy fell. I do
hope they will send some of them our way and not hoard them all for themselves,
my wardrobe needs something fresh and beautiful.” She tossed her head
haughtily, looking displeased.
 
“As you say, Elizabeth.” Astoria replied, “Shall we?”
 
Arm in arm, with Astoria in the middle, she, Adelaide and Elizabeth made to
join the crowd of witches and wizards gathered underneath the pavilion. Their
skirts whispered softly on the grass as Adelaide talked excitedly about the day
to come and Astoria forced herself to nod and smile.
 
“Ah, this beautiful day has become even more so!” Called Rowle as the three of
them were within hailing distance.
 
The surrounding wizards laughed and those who were seated got to their feet to
greet them excepting Philippe Rousseau who was too fat to rise that quickly.
Ediva de Sade was sat next to him and despite her early pregnancy, she looked a
stick in contrast to Rousseau’s massive frame. There were others underneath the
pavilion who would not be taking part in the hunt, chiefly the aristocratic
elders and the very young. Astoria was unsurprised to see that Hestia Carrow
had donned a simple black riding habit with a severe cut; unadorned with jewels
or embroidery. She stood aside from the group, gazing up at the purple
mountains as she sipped from her goblet, looking sour. Astoria could not say if
she had taken the death of her Uncle Amycus to heart like her Aunt Alecto who
had been driven half mad with grief at the loss of her sadistic partner in
crime. The Zabini brothers were predictably the most richly garbed out of all
of the wizards. The brothers wore magnificently embroidered tailcoats of blue
and silver and green and gold respectively, their family coat of arms picked
out in diamonds on the breast: a dragon crouching on a moon, its wings spread
wide.
 
Over the next hour, the crowd of witches and wizards underneath the pavilion
grew larger and larger as they indulged in strong drink and rich canapes
sprinkled with real gold dust. There was suddenly a great torrent of noise; the
pounding of hooves and loud baying which made the ground tremble. Silas was
mounted on a blood bay unicorn as he charged toward them herding a pack of
howling red and silver wolves, his disfigured face alive with excitement. There
were many cheers and the chink of glasses as Silas slowed; his mount blowing
and heaving, its flanks lathered. Silas was once again armed with his cruel
whip which he slashed through the air, cackling shrilly as the wolves teemed
about on the grass. They were thrice the size of common wolves, heavily muscled
and half mad; slaver was running from their jaws and their eyes bulged as they
continued to howl – a sound which chilled Astoria to the bone.
 
“They have not been fed in three days!” Silas screamed over the tumult, his
mismatched eyes gleaming. “I do believe the time is ripe for the hunt to
commence!”
 
There was a great roar of assent at his words and Astoria saw her husband
glugging from a bottle of Firewhiskey. Good, perhaps he shall fall from his
mount and break his neck,Astoria thought vengefully. Muggle slaves then came
into view jogging beside a hoard of highly strung unicorns; they were all big
strong men to handle such beasts, but Astoria knew they would have been
castrated all the same – that was the law by his Lordship’s own decree in all
occupied territory. She had chosen a pure white mare for herself today; the
creature was gentle and sweet but looked as though she would be swift and sure
footed over the vast terrain of Rousseau’s land. Rowle’s mount was the biggest
unicorn she had ever seen to take his weight and Prince Gyasi’s African
mercenaries were mounted on queer, black and white striped unicorns with long,
dark manes and tails like silk. Their horns were longer than that of a normal
unicorn and they were far wilder. All of the party were mounted on stallions,
even the witches and the striped beasts were causing a stir as they stamped and
snorted, swishing their tails and screaming, eager to leave for the hunt. Their
African guests garbed themselves in rich, colourful traditional cloth from
their relevant nations and sat on ornate saddles with gold and jewelled
fastenings, seemingly unperturbed by their half wild mounts. The vicious wolves
were adding to the din, snarling and baying and snapping at one another
furiously as everyone mounted up. Astoria saw a Muggle slave drop to his hands
and knees at the feet of Bellatrix who lifted her skirts deftly and used him as
a mounting block, leaving behind a dirty boot print on his back. Antonin
suddenly seized the whip from Silas and cracked it over the wolves’ heads to
incense them even further while the surrounding Death Eaters laughed.
 
When all were ready Rousseau called “Good fortune to you on the hunt! I shall
see you at the banquet this evenfall.” He waved a fat hand lazily before
turning back to talk with Ediva de Sade. 
 
They set off at a blistering gallop toward a heavily wooded area; the wizards
heading the hunting party while Astoria and most of the witches brought up the
rear, though Bellatrix rode her dapple grey unicorn with reckless abandon at
the front next to Silas. They thundered through trees and jumped small creeks
as the wolves weaved around the unicorns’ legs, snarling malevolently. Birds
burst from the trees and deer scattered as they flew past, Astoria saw a flash
of green light and a great stag fell with a groan while the Death Eaters
laughed. The wolves began to bay louder than ever and took them Westward
through the forest. Then came the screams. Another great gale of laughter
erupted from many throats and Astoria saw ragged Muggles darting through the
trees. Let the barbarity begin.She fell in with Elizabeth who rode a chestnut
as they pounded after the large group before hurtling out of the trees to be
faced with a great gushing river. Two Muggle men were swimming for their lives
across the river while the hunting party spread out upon the riverbank, many of
them shouting out insults after them.
 
“We may as well give them a good head start.” Antonin sneered as his mount
moved skittishly beneath him. He gave the poor animal a savage kick with a spur
clad boot to quieten it as he drew out his drinking flask to take another great
swig.
 
When the Muggles reached the other side of the bank Hiroaki Jaakuna screamed,
“Let’s KILL THEM!” His red rimmed, slanting eyes were bright and feverish as he
launched his mount into the river to splash after the Muggles.
 
The wolves leapt after him, just as eager and the other members of the hunt
followed suit in a great tide of water as they all charged across the river.
When they reached the other side, Silas cracked the whip through the air once
again and the wolves bayed, plunging straight ahead into the trees. Astoria
could hear the frightened shouts of the Muggles from here as they pounded
through the woodland.
 
“Over there!” Screeched Bellatrix who raced after a man struggling through the
undergrowth. She cantered up behind him and brought her wand down in a savage
arc which split the Muggle in two, his blood and brains scattering over the
moss covered ground.
 
The Death Eaters all cheered. “First kill of the day!” McNair shouted over the
tumult. “Well struck, Bellatrix!”
 
Bellatrix merely cackled and rode on after Silas and his wolves as they went
crashing up an earthen bank to career to the other side where they saw the
other man running as fast as he could ahead of them. He threw himself at a tree
and began to climb determinedly upwards as though he were some sort of monkey.
The surrounding Death Eaters congregated around the base of the tree as the
wolves gave blood curdling howls and slashed at the bark, tree sap fling
everywhere as they looked hungrily up at the terrified Muggle. The man’s face
was pale and his eyes wide as he clutched desperately at a thick branch amidst
the leaves, staring down into the leering faces of the Death Eaters, many of
whom had drawn their wands. He knows he is going to die, yet he clings to life
ever more desperately.
 
There was a sudden screech from above their heads and when Astoria looked up
she saw the monstrous form of a huge black eagle; Vlad, Antonin’s vile ‘pet’
had joined in the savagery. Antonin gave a yell of triumph as Vlad screeched
again, his lethal talons outstretched as he soared toward the terrified Muggle
still cowering in the tree. There was a terrible scream as Vlad slashed the
Muggle across the face and he fell from the tree through countless branches and
leaves as the Death Eaters roared. They closed in around the tree as Vlad
continued to tear the man’s face to bloody ribbons as he screamed and writhed
upon the floor, the unicorns jostling one another nervously at the scent of the
blood. When Vlad had ceased his ferocious attack, the Muggle had no eyes and
his face was so ripped and slashed it was a shock to see that he still lived
behind the red ruin as he continued to howl in pain. The wolves made to lunge
forward again but Silas dealt them another vicious slash to cow them.
 
Almost as if just for good measure Antonin then bellowed, “Crucio!”And the
Muggle screamed harder still in unison with Vlad who was wheeling above their
heads; his beak and talons awash with blood.
 
Bellatrix and Prince Gyasi added their wands to the torture and the Muggle was
lifted into the air, such was the power of their spells as he continued to
thrash about in agony. This one is a fighter,Astoria thought as the surrounding
Death Eaters hurled jinxes and hexes at this Muggle who refused to die.
 
She rather thought it a perverse sort of kindness when she heard Silas crack
his whip once again and his reedy voice shrieked, “KILL!”
 
There were cries of sadistic joy as the wolves bounded forward, snarling,
baring their teeth and shoving one another out of the way to get to the flesh
Silas had so cruelly denied them for three days. The best thing that could be
said was that the Muggle’s life was ended swiftly; a great silver wolf promptly
tore out his throat, ending his suffering in a great spray of red which
swallowed the scattered leaves upon the ground. Bones crunched, and intestines
flew as the wolves tore the Muggle to pieces. When they were done, there were
only a few cracked bones and a few tattered pieces of flesh. Jugson looked
deeply satisfied as he helped himself to his drinking flask and Armand Fersen
began to sing in French as they trotted away from the bloody scene.
 
The wolves followed a scent that took them through a golden forest carpeted in
bluebells, up and down green rolling hills and around a great marsh before
leading them to a vast grassland whose grass was so long that it brushed the
bellies of the unicorns. The wolves were sniffing about confusedly as the
hunting party milled around, trampling the long grass as they did so.
 
“Get the scent!” Astoria heard Antonin roar and she wheeled her mare about just
in time to see him jerking the whip away from Silas once again and lashing it
five times – so viciously that she heard one of the creatures yelp in pain.
 
Antonin’s beating seemed to have worked however for the wolves shot off once
again into the trees and Astoria could tell from the way they were snarling
that more Muggles were close. Moments later two screaming girls burst forth
from the wooded area as they ran from the savage wolves at their heels who were
hounding them toward the eagerly awaiting Death Eaters. One was completely
naked, and Astoria saw malicious hunger flash across her husband’s twisted
face, the other was dressed in some filthy ragged vest and knickers. The naked
girl veered to the left but was cut off by a cackling Avery who urged his mount
to block her path so that she tripped and fell. Cruel laughter rang throughout
the grassland and Lancelot Mulciber dismounted, looking a little unsteady on
his feet. The other girl was now being taunted by Silas who had knocked her to
the ground and had her surrounded by wolves who were barking savagely in her
face, their teeth bared, though they did not strike. Lancelot was bearing down
upon the nude girl who cowered away from him as he threw his riding jacket
aside and untucked his shirt, grinning like a cat in cream. As he drew closer
her leg lashed out to kick him, but he caught her by the ankle which gave a
sickening snap and the girl screamed louder than ever. Even as Lancelot
clambered on top of her the girl beat his chest with her fists which he did not
take kindly to; for he punched the girl so hard that half her teeth were
knocked out in a great spatter of blood.
 
“If you try and fight me, I will fucking kill you!” Lancelot bellowed down at
the dazed girl before shoving himself inside her as she gargled feebly, blood
bubbling from her mouth and empty tooth holes. “It is not every Muggle bitch
that gets to have a Pure Blood inside her!” The surrounding Death Eaters roared
with laughter at his last words.
 
“Yeah fuck her right into the dirt, young Mulciber!” Jeered Yaxley, “It is
where the filthy Muggle slut belongs!”
 
The other Muggle girl wailed in terror as she gazed, horrified as Lancelot
brutally raped her companion. More of the wizards had dismounted and they were
crowding around the panting Lancelot and the weeping girl, doubtless awaiting
‘their turn’ as they jeered and shouted. Without warning, Silas began to lash
the girl at his feet mercilessly with the whip so that great gashes erupted on
her dirty skin. Great arcs of blood gushed from the wounds as the girl howled
in pain; he was whipping her with such force that the lash bit so deep into her
flesh that Astoria could see bone. Akhmed bin Khalid then leapt out of nowhere
and began hacking off great clumps of her hair with a janbiya as he screeched
incoherently in Arabic, his golden eyes glittering. Marcel de Sade was so drunk
and was laughing so hard that he fell from his mount, clutching at his side as
tears poured down his hollow face while the others joined in the hilarity.
 When he had recovered himself, he strode over to the battered girl; he tore
apart the rags she was wearing and began to beat her very, very hard with his
fists; his laughter mingling queerly with her renewed screams of pain. Astoria
looked away as Theodore slashed open the other girl’s throat and chanced a
glance at Elizabeth, but she was not taking any notice of her brother’s
barbarity as she snorted coca off the back of her gloved hand. Now that there
was only one girl left, the wizards turned their ferocity and lust upon her.
 
By the time the girl had been raped by almost every wizard in the hunting
party, she was trying to crawl away from them, breathing raggedly through her
swollen lips and bleeding from a thousand cuts with half of her hair shaved
off. Antonin calmly walked up to her and slowly and deliberately pressed a
heavy riding boot down upon one of her hands. The girl let out a screech of
pain and coughed up blood as the delicate bones in her hand were crushed and
Antonin twisted his heel down cruelly, smirking all the while.
 
“Time to make an end!” Shouted Rookwood to roars of assent, “There is more
fresh meat out there and I want to hunt it!”
 
Antonin grabbed the girl’s knickers which were lying a few feet away, forced
her to the grassy floor with his knee and wrapped them around her neck,
laughing as he did so.
 
“Go on, fucking kill the whore!” Shouted Walter Selwyn drunkenly as Antonin
savagely grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair and whispered something
malevolent in her ear that made her whimper.  
 
Sure enough, slowly but surely Antonin began to strangle her, panting with
excitement as he twisted the knickers tighter and tighter. De Sade was
shrieking incoherently with glee as the other Death Eaters urged Antonin on.
Astoria could not seem to tear her horrified gaze from the girl’s ravaged face;
she was gasping and spluttering, desperately trying to throw off Antonin and
grasping fruitlessly at the lace ligature around her neck despite her many
wounds. Her face was beginning to darken and the light in her eyes began to dim
as the surrounding members of the hunting party hooted and jeered. By the time
she was dead, the girl’s face was as black as a plum and her eyeballs were two
red horrors. Panting, Antonin got to his feet looking indecently pleased with
himself and it was all Astoria could do not to be sick when she saw him stuff
the knickers into a pocket of his tailcoat, a sly smile playing about his cruel
mouth.
 
Bellatrix lingered long enough to spit viciously over the girls’ mutilated
corpses. “Filth!” She shrieked before wheeling her mount around to trot back
into the woods. Vlad re appeared then, landing lightly on the strangled girl’s
chest as he began to peck out her eyes.
 
The Death Eaters spent the next few hours hunting Muggles, chasing them all
over Rousseau’s vast lands. Adalberto Malvagità and Rowle backed four Muggle
men off a rocky cliff to send them plunging to their deaths, shrieking, before
their bodies smashed and spattered upon the jagged rocks below while the others
cheered. Rookwood trampled a boy of nine over and over again until his flesh
and bone were mashed into the ground, Veliane Ayim – a witch from the African
nation of Ghana, flayed the skin from the flesh of a young man before chasing
him into the den of a golden bear. The beast had devoured him so savagely that
there were scraps of flesh and entrails clinging to the leaves of trees after
it was done with its gruesome feast. Hestia Carrow tied a Muggle woman to the
back of her mount and dragged her all over the rough terrain while she screamed
as rocks, twigs and the cold hard ground slashed her body to bloody ruins. By
the time Hestia was finished, all that remained of the woman were the bloody
stumps of her feet where she had been bound to the saddle. Avery had the
severed heads from his victims attached to his saddle, cackling with glee while
the awful Hiroaki Jaakuna had the headless corpse of a woman slung over the
back of his mount and Astoria dreaded what he had in store for his grisly
trophy.
 
When the Death Eaters grew bored of slaughter, they galloped to a meadow filled
with buttercups. A few wands were all that were needed to erect another silk
pavilion as before; beneath it there were richly patterned rugs and piles of
silk cushions. There were innumerable solid silver platters laden with food –
as well as drink, piles of white coca powder, jars of dried ‘mushrooms,’
carafes of laudanum and countless small pipes stuffed with opium and cannabis. 
 
Suddenly Dashiell and Walter Selwyn burst from the trees out onto the meadow,
their faces shining with sadistic pleasure. Behind them were a dozen or so
weeping Muggle women, all bound to one another in chains which had scraped the
skin off their wrists, leaving them red and raw.
 
“Ah, it is about time!” Called Rodolphus Lestrange as Father and son forced the
terrified Muggle women closer to their leering tormentors to be.
 
Now the ‘entertainment’ had arrived the Death Eaters wasted no time in
indulging in every sick, twisted and depraved act they could think of and
predictably Antonin paved the way for the debauchery. “Bring me that one” He
called from the pavilion as he sprawled on the cushions, gesturing lazily at a
teenaged girl with dark hair and deep blue eyes that were huge with fear.
 
Dashiell and his Father dismounted at once and tore what little clothing she
had on from her body. The girl wept and begged in what sounded like Italian as
they dragged her toward Antonin who was grinning malevolently. Her screams
increased in pitch as she saw him fumbling with the laces of his breeches while
he in turn chuckled softly – terror always aroused him. No sooner had the
Selwyns flung the weeping girl down next to Antonin he was on top of her, his
hand at her throat as he forced himself between her legs.
 
“No, no, per favore, ti prego! Ti prego!” She screamed as Antonin started to
grind himself into her, breathing hard and chuckling.
 
While her husband was distracted, Astoria promptly seized a goblet of wine and
flung herself down on a pile of cushions, wanting nothing more than to
disappear into the silken wall as her husband grunted with pleasure and the
girl continued to shriek and sob at the top of her lungs. The other Death
Eaters fell upon the remaining Muggle women like the pack of rabid wolves that
had been running with them that day. Lyle Nott and Lancelot Mulciber were
fighting over a slender, sandy haired girl; one had her right arm, the other
her left and they tugged at each one in turn as though she were a rag doll
while the girl herself screamed and shook her head, imploringly.
 
“Get out of it, Mulciber!” Lyle snarled over the din as he twisted the girl’s
wrist cruelly. “You can go next, I am the elder!”
 
Astoria saw that Draco was standing outside the pavilion, his back to
everything as he gazed broodingly out over the landscape, a goblet of wine in
his slender hand. Would that his hand were wrapped around me instead,she
thought fleetingly before shoving the thought away almost immediately. No one
else seemed to notice how ill at ease Draco was, for the other Death Eaters
were largely ignoring him as usual. He was often ridiculed for his half hearted
approach to their favourite sport of rape, torture and murder, Astoria knew.
She took another great swallow of wine to try and dull her wits to the
depravity unfolding before her very eyes.
 
“Stop! Please Stop!” a Muggle woman wailed, cowering away from the monstrous
Ukrainian Rostyslav Andrukhovych. The woman was naked, and he had her backed up
against a tree while he savagely poked at her with a sharp, burning stick,
shaking with laughter at her pain and misery.
 
Rodolphus was taking a girl from behind, raping her like an animal while she
screamed and wailed as he growled and grunted obscenely. Jugson was snorting
coca off of Veliane Ayim’s thigh as she in turn locked lips with Avery at the
same time, only breaking their embrace to take deep pulls off a cannabis pipe.
Blaise had his hand up the skirt of one of Marcel de Sade’s daughters as she
gasped and giggled, but Marcel himself was completely unconcerned for he and
Silas were taking turns in forcing their lengths down the throat of another
girl, shrieking with laughter. The elder Selwyn was sprawled upon a pile of
cushions, half conscious at having smoked too much, while the younger dragged a
screaming girl by the hair toward a clump of bushes to have his way with her.
It was all too much, Astoria refilled her goblet yet again with a wave of her
wand and swallowed it down promptly. She felt her mind beginning to cloud but
did not feel any better as she gazed around at the suffering and vile decadence
surrounding her. Astoria stared disgustedly at Rookwood who was chasing a girl
who could have not been more than thirteen and pondered grimly how much farther
humanity would sink into darkness under the Dark Lord’s bloodthirsty and
tyrannical rule.
Chapter End Notes
     I didn't include Lord V in this chapter as I didn't feel it was
     necessary. I know he hates Muggles and I know the hunt was barbaric
     but it is also social in a twisted sort of way and it just didn't
     feel right to include him with the Death Eaters like 'friends'
     enjoying themselves because as we all know he is an anti social
     monster who only cares about his power.
***** XXXI. - Traitor *****
Chapter Summary
     All shall be explained at the end of the chapter as there are a
     couple of surprises.
     Same disclaimer applies
     Warning: graphic material
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The next fortnight spent at Rousseau’s palace was much the same as it had been;
an endless parade of excessive dinners, balls, ‘petit soirées’ and three other
‘Muggle Hunts;’ each event more barbaric and debauched than the last. At last
though, at last, they had finally reached their final night of their stay at
Rousseau’s, so as custom dictated there was to be a lavish leaving banquet
before their departure. All Astoria wanted to do was go home, she was tired of
the constant feasting and watching Muggles getting torn to pieces.
 
“You look ravishing this evening my lady” Antonin murmured into her neck as his
strong arms coiled around her waist. “I am glad you wore my stones.” He lightly
brushed the elaborate diamond necklace spreading halfway over her chest, eyes
gleaming.
                                                                                                                                        
“I thank you, husband” She lied sweetly.
 
He looked her up and down appreciatively, biting his lip. “Mmh, would that I
could get you out of that gown right now and give you a good fucking.” Astoria
inwardly grimaced, he had bedded her not two hours ago before she was
meticulously trussed up in jewels and velvet. “But I suppose we needs must
appease that fat fool, Rousseau. Now, give me a kiss.” Dutifully, Astoria
complied.
 
Naturally everyone would be wearing their finest for their final evening, so
she had chosen the gaudy necklace Antonin had gifted her a moon’s turn ago;
doubtless some poor Muggle had been forced to dig up the stones in one of
France’s many scorching Goblin mines. This night she was clad in a gown
fashioned from crushed gold velvet trimmed with ivory lace and pearls which
complimented her hair; predictably her husband had garbed himself in silver and
green dress robes.
 
A great flurry of noise and the wafting scent of rich food greeted them as she
and Antonin stepped into the glittering, cavernous banquet hall. Just as it had
been at Hogwarts, the ceiling had been enchanted to look like the night sky.
Thousands of bright stars that sparkled like diamonds lit the deep purple sky
as shimmering comets danced between them and planets of every colour hovered
lazily in the luminous panoply. A towering fountain intricately carved of green
and white marble in the centre of the room drew the eye as rivers of deep red
wine splashed softly down its many tiers or else gushed from the mouths of
gargoyles. Astoria saw two young witches seated on the bench of the fountain,
helping themselves to the wine and giggling madly.
 
They toured the room greeting everyone until they were approached by Yaxley and
Elizabeth as usual. “Wife, busy yourself with Madam Dolohov, I needs must speak
with Antonin about things you could not possibly understand.” Yaxley said
brusquely, “Go now, and be foolish with one another.”
 
Elizabeth’s jaw gave an irritated twitch, but she lightly kissed her husband’s
cheek and swept over to Astoria to greet her. Their husbands moved off to the
side a little while they both took in the banquet hall as richly dressed
aristocrats came streaming into the room while Elizabeth prattled on about whom
was being unfaithful to whom and commenting on ladies’ gowns.
 
Astoria did not care much for gossip, so she let Elizabeth’s words wash over
her until she was snapped out of her reverie. “Look who it is.” Elizabeth
murmured in her ear as she delicately nibbled at a pink macaroon.
 
Astoria looked to the double doors to behold one of the most beautiful witches
she had ever seen on the arm of Lancelot Mulciber who was grinning like a fool.
They were causing quite a stir and the heads of many wizards turned as they
came further into the room. Alessandra Zabini may have been a witch of forty
years, but she was as stunning as a witch of twenty. Tall, slender and full
breasted with dark skin like polished teak, leaf green eyes and those proud
Zabini cheekbones made Alessandra a veritable goddess. She was clad in a gown
of purest white covered with diamonds that contrasted dramatically with her
dark skin tone and masses of loose, raven black curls. Even Antonin – who liked
his witches young, was goggling at her like a teenaged boy as she approached
them with Lancelot walking beside her obediently like a puppy, smirking. Fool,
she has bagged you as neat as a hare in a snareAstoria thought
scornfully.Alessandra Zabini may be stunningly beautiful, but it was an open
secret that she had done away with her seven husbands and now moved from lover
to lover to sate her famously wild lusts. “Black Widow”people called her –
though never to her face, lest they wish to be poisoned or have a curse put
upon their families.
 
“Madam Dolohov.” The Zabini matriarch purred softly as they kissed one
another’s cheeks; she smelled of sandalwood and jasmine. She gave a radiant
white smile, but those green eyes were shrewd and calculating. “The last time I
saw you, you had neither husband nor child, now you have both.” She smiled for
Antonin whose mouth gave a pleasurable twist. “You could not do better; your
two excellent bloodlines are sure to produce many more pure children for the
Dark Order. We witches have the most important job of all when it comes to the
purification of these rotten societies, remember that child.”
 
“Thank you for your sweet words and counsel my lady.  It is an honour to
further the cause for the Dark Order.” Astoria replied with a courtesy that
made her jaw ache.
 
Alessandra smiled. “I needs must find a match for my boys, it is past time they
were wed.” She gave a toss of her shiny black curls, “Well, there is no time
like the present, I shall say good eve to you now.” Alessandra nodded, Lancelot
inclined his head and they swept away to where Marcel de Sade was stood
chatting animatedly to Walter Selwyn.
 
“How sweet would it be to fuck her?” Astoria heard Antonin murmur to Yaxley,
whose eyes were still fixed on the retreating back of Alessandra Zabini.
 
Yaxley gave an amused grunt. “Indeed, young Mulciber is in for a wild night I
imagine. I daresay I am rather enjoying having all these exotic creatures about
the place.” His gaze fell upon the Ghanaian Veliane Ayim, another dark beauty
who painted her lips scarlet and had a diamond pierced through her tongue.
 
With Philippe Rousseau’s gluttonous inclinations and his love of excess,
Astoria could hardly be surprised at the seemingly never ending amount of food.
Even so, Rousseau seemed determined to outdo himself for their final evening. A
life sized sparkling ice sculpture in the likeness of a roaring dragon with its
wings spread loomed over the golden platters of rich food. There were mountains
of edible sugar flowers in delicate pinks and blues, great jellies in the form
of palaces, tureens of white pearl caviar, honey roasted quail’s wings dusted
with white truffles, a huge snarling snake glazed in syrup crafted entirely
from fruit and so much more, from wall to wall. Most like most of it would go
waste for they had not even had dinner yet.
 
As was the custom at these banquets, dinner then gave way to dancing and they
all drifted to Rousseau’s ballroom. Like the rest of Rousseau’s palace, the
ballroom was lavish. Hundreds of chandeliers sparkled from the towering ceiling
which illuminated the gold and jade carved animals and cherubs mounted on the
walls. There was a balcony spanning three sides of the room where some of the
guests had ascended to take drinks and a golden robed orchestra had started to
play sweet soft music as many couples made for the centre of the room. Astoria
merely stood there on her husband’s arm, taking in the room and sipping
champagne occasionally while he spoke with Travers.
 
“Monsieur Dolohov, may I steal your wife?” Rasped a voice from behind them.
Travers abruptly stopped talking and they all turned. Tall, emaciated and pale
as snow, Dracula stood before them, flashing his fangs. Antonin arched a dark
eyebrow coolly and Dracula added, “For the waltz?” He bowed low, his long
fingernailed hand outstretched.
 
Antonin glanced at Astoria. “Very well, good Count but keep your hands where I
can see them!” He replied with a lecherous wink and promptly turned back to
Travers to continue their conversation.
 
Astoria took Dracula’s frozen hand as he led her to the centre of the ballroom.
He placed his other hand on her waist and she could still feel the chill from
his touch over all the silk and velvet of her gown. As the music commenced, she
and Dracula twirled about the room in complicated steps, his yellow eyes never
leaving her.
 
“You look beautiful tonight Madame Dolohov, I am not being surprised that every
man you pass cannot help but turn his head after you.”
 
“That is most kind of you, Count.” Astoria replied stiffly, averting her eyes
from Dracula’s.
 
They danced for a few minutes before Dracula spoke again. “So, ma jolie fleur.”
He rasped over the flutes and violins. “When are you going to be telling
Monsieur Dolohov the wonderful news?”
 
“I beg your pardon?” Astoria replied, bemused. She did not like the way the
Vampire was looking at her.
 
“You… are with child.” Dracula whispered, baring his fangs in that terrible
grin she despised so much.
 
Astoria tensed, her heart gave a lurch, and she met Dracula’s yellow stare with
one of mingled defiance, fear and fury. “I am sure I do not know what you are
talking about, Count.” She replied coldly, though her insides burned with
outrage. “And it is quite improper for you to state such a thing to a married
woman.”
 
Dracula laughed, his long fangs brought into greater prominence as he tightened
his ice cold grip on her hand. “Oh, I am thinking that you do my beauty, you
are having that unmistakable scent about you, so fresh and so pure.” He gave a
deep sniff and leered, his yellow eyes full of malicious pleasure, his nostrils
quivering with excitement. “Do not forget Madame Dolohov, I am a Vampire. I can
smell out expectant mothers from many leagues away… and you are being so very
closejust now.” As he twirled her around, he drew her to his chest briefly; no
heart beat there but Astoria could feel his ice cold breath on her neck which
made her shudder, despite the heat of the ballroom. “Deny it all you want
Madame, but soon enough you shall be great with child and those luscious tits
will be ripe for milking.”
 
Astoria dug her nails hard into his cold, dead skin, knowing that it would have
no effect whatsoever, but she had to stop herself from shaking with fury. “Mind
your place, Vampire.” She snarled under her breath, wanting nothing more than
to slap him across his vile, deathly white face.
 
Dracula merely sneered at her. “Your children by rights are belonging to your
Lord husband, you ought to tell him you are growing another one of his heirs in
your belly.” Astoria clenched her teeth, for she could not trust herself to
speak just then and acted as though the twisted, lecherous old Vampire did not
exist.
 
When the music ended, Astoria wrenched herself free from Dracula’s clutches and
she heard his raspy chuckle as she strode from the room, doing her utmost not
to draw attention to herself. She hurried down a corridor and around a corner
before arriving at the powder room, jerking open the door before slamming it
behind her. The powder room was adorned with fantastical birds of paradise
painted on the walls as they fluttered serenely through exotic greenery.
Astoria strode over to where the perfumes, powders and combs were laid out upon
a silver gilded sideboard underneath a carved mirror. She stared at her
reflection, breathing hard, her heart hammering. Could it be? Or was that
Vampire merely playing a cruel jape?Since the last turn of the moon, Astoria
had had her own suspicions that she may have fallen pregnant again, but she had
brushed away the thought and put her episodes of dizziness down to not eating
enough. After all, her moonblood had arrived soon after, but there again… it
had been very light and scarcely lasted two days.
 
“He was lying.” Astoria said aloud, as if to make it true.
 
My moonblood has been like this before and I do not show any of the signs as
before, Dracula was just toying with me… but what if?If she was indeed about to
become a Mother again then Astoria would love the child as much as she loved
Leo, but she feared she would go crazy with fear with another baby to worry
about in this cruel world. She was constantly frightened for Leo, wondering if
all this savagery would corrupt him as he grew older and she found that hard
enough with just one child. Well, at least my husband will be satisfied at
last,she thought wryly. To be sure Antonin had been determined to have more
children; even when the war was at its peak. Astoria knew he loathed the idea
of witches on the battlefield and keeping her pregnant and vulnerable was the
easiest way to take her out of duty and keep her in his controlling clutches.
 
How many times had he said it after all? “A wife is there to pleasure her
husband and birth his children.” Indeed, of late he would bed her even
morefrequently than usual and with far more intensity and vigour and would
become irritated when her blood came each moon. He had even accused her of
being barren – one of the many taunts he would hurl at her when he came home
drunk.
 
The door gave a snap and Astoria whirled around, not wanting to look
suspicious, but she gasped in shock when she saw who was stood in the doorway.
 
“Draco.” She breathed “I – you… what are you doing in here? You must leave now,
my husband, he –”
 
Draco stared into her eyes for a moment and she wanted to weep; it had been so
long since she had glimpsed that soft grey stare that would calm her during her
darkest hours. How long ago that seemed now. “I saw you leave the ballroom with
some haste – you…you looked upset. I glimpsed your husband as I left, he was
drinking with Travers and drooling over that Ayim woman.”
 
Astoria did not give a fig who Antonin decided to prowl after tonight, her main
concern just now was Draco and his safety as well as that of her own. She
hardened her heart and replied, “I am fine. It would please me if you would
leave now, this is quite improper.” She firmly turned her back on him and
glared up at a pale blue flamingo as it soared around a fruit tree. Draco
stepped over the threshold, however, his grey eyes searching her face.
Astoria’s pulse quickened, what he was doing just now was nothing short of
suicide. I must force him to go. She whirled around angrily and said, “If you
do not leave now I shall scream and my Lord husband will burst in here and kill
you on the spot – if you are lucky.”
 
“No, you won’t.” Draco said softly, who had made no move to go and was
seemingly unperturbed by her harshness.
 
“Excuse me? Do not presume to –”
 
“This is not you, Tori.” Draco interrupted, taking another step toward her and
gently taking her by the shoulders. She flinched and tried to pull away,
averting her gaze from his face. “Your eyes, I can always see it in your eyes
when you say something you do not mean. Look at me.”
 
Astoria looked up at Draco who gently touched her cheek. His touch sent a
shiver down her spine and made her think of all the hours they had spent with
one another at Malfoy Manor. He had never bedded her to be sure, that would
have been far too dangerous, but oh how she had wished.Thinking about what
could have been brought tears to her eyes and she buried her face into his
shoulder to muffle her sobs, clutching at his back with a desperate strength.
 
“I have missed you so much.” She cried, still holding him as tight as she could
as he stroked her hair soothingly. “I feel so alone sometimes.”
 
“I know Tori, I know how scared you are of him, I just wish I could protect
you.” His words made her cry harder still but Draco, her rock, stood there and
held her in his arms. It was the first time she had felt safe in a very long
time.
 
When the tears had run their course, Draco cupped her face in his hands,
kissing away the salt tracks of her cheeks. He smelled of mint and lemons as
always; so fresh and clean. Then, in the blink of an eye, his mouth was on
hers, their tongues wrapping around one another as Astoria grasped at his neck
to deepen their kiss. They kissed as though the world were about to go up in
flames and it was utter bliss, it was though nothing else existed but the two
of them. Astoria had never been kissed like this by anyone,and for the first
time in what felt like an age, she felt herself becoming willinglyaroused as
the sweet tingling between her legs intensified. Draco’s kisses were gentle yet
passionate, his touch firm without being aggressive as she was used to. She
gave a little moan as his hand slid down past her waist and she raked her hands
through his white blonde hair as she stumbled backward to the perfume table. He
planted soft kisses from her cleavage up to her neck that made her shudder
before burying his face into her neck and breathing hard, his arousal obvious
as he pressed his body as hard as he could into hers.
 
“I love you so much.” He whispered between kisses and she grasped him even
harder.
 
Draco put one of his hands on her breasts with a gentle caress which made her
moan again while his other fumbled at her skirts. He kissed her to muffle the
sound, yet he moaned into her mouth when she grasped him between the legs. When
she drew him out his length was hot and throbbing with a drop of seed already
quivering from the tip and Draco was biting down hard on his lip to keep from
crying out. Astoria grabbed him again and kissed him hard while his slender
hands travelled gently up her thighs and over her stockings. She had to stifle
a scream when she felt his fingers rub her through the lace of her wet kickers,
it felt achingly good. The wetness between her thighs intensified when his
fingers found the pink beneath and he began to rub her delicate centre, gently
at first but then firmer and firmer, she arched her back and bit her lip; all
she knew was that she wanted to lose herself in his arms, his touch, all of it.
Draco was breathing hard in her ear as he drew her closer, his hips deliciously
close to hers as the pulsating head of his member pressed against her womanly
entrance. Then she awoke. Leo. Her unborn child. They were what she thought of
then, and the dream vanished in an instant. How could she be so stupid?Her eyes
flew open and she pushed Draco away, trying to catch her breath, horror struck
at her foolishness.
 
“I am sorry Tori, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” He hastily tucked himself back
in, flustered and red faced. Draco made to touch her face, but she shied away
shaking her head.
 
“I cannot do this Draco, I must go, I must get back. This – this was a
mistake.”
 
“I understand you are frightened, Tori. Just let me explain.”
 
Astoria gave a bitter laugh, Understand? How could he? He has a gentle heart,
but he is not a Mother.
 
He paid her laugher no mind and pressed on. “Listen, I have been thinking that
we could – we could just run away. I know some Muggles and wizards managed to
escape when we took Poland, they were heading for America. Perhaps when the
Dark Lord moves against Germany we could slip away during battle or something,
head for the coast and make for Greenland; there are a lot of people hiding out
there, I am told. I am willing to do anything to be with you… I love you Tori,
please–”
 
But Astoria cut him off; Draco was scaring her now, even saying such things
aloud were dangerous. “Stop talking nonsense, Draco!” She hissed. “Even if we
were to succeed in escaping, how long do you think we would last? How would I
be able to feed my son?” Draco tried to speak but Astoria talked over him and
began to pace from stress, skirts swirling. “I have to go, I have to get back!
Do you have any idea what Antonin will do to you if he even catches you talking
to me alone!? Never mind what we just did!” The tears made themselves known
again and she roughly wiped them away. “I love you too Draco, but it can never
be, it can never be! Please do not risk your life like this; find a nice girl
who you care about and forget me. I am not a rule unto myself, my husband
dictates every aspect of my life and if I go for more than a fortnight without
being slapped then that is considered a miracle… You do not understand how
vicious he can be, I have children to think about!”
 
“Children?” Draco echoed, his brow furrowing. Astoria had spoken without
thinking, but as soon as she said the words, she knew them to be true. She saw
comprehension dawning over his face, his grey eyes full of hurt. “Oh - I see. I
see, so you are…” He could not seem to finish the sentence.
 
Astoria took a deep breath, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes; the
jumble of all these emotions were making her scared and confused, fogging her
wits. “I am going to have another baby, Draco, and there is no one but me to
defend it. I know it may seem queer to you, but I love my son more than
anything in the world, I carried him inside me for close to a year; you cannot
possibly know what that is like. He is sweet and innocent, he is the only light
in my world of darkness and if it were not for him I would have flung myself
from a tower long ago.” She gave Draco a sharp look. “Do not mistake my love
for Leo as love for Antonin; the only way that drunken brute will ever have my
heart is if he cuts it out.”
 
Draco winced at the harshness of her words but did not utter straight away. “I
am sorry for all you have suffered, Tori.” Draco said quietly after a long
pause, his eyes full of grief. “I do not care if you are pregnant with his
child, all I want is you. Does – does he know?”
 
Astoria shook her head. “Nobody knows apart from you and Dracula… he claims he
smelled me out.” She added in answer to Draco’s bewildered expression. “Now
pleaseDraco, please go, this is madness.”
 
Draco turned and made for the door, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob
he paused and looked back. “I will never marry anyone else, not ever if I
cannot be with you. I hope you have a healthy baby, Tori… I am sure you are a
wonderful Mother; your children are lucky to have you. I shall say goodnight
now...” He hesitated again, “I meant it when I said I love you. I just know
that I will always love you, whatever happens to you, whatever happens to me,
whether you love me or not, I know that I shall love you for all of my life.”
 
When the door thudded softly behind Draco and his footsteps began to recede,
Astoria collapsed into the nearest loveseat and burst into tears.
 
It had been over a week since they had departed from Rousseau’s and Astoria was
in a constant state of fear and anxiety now she was back home alone with
Antonin. She still had not told him that she was pregnant, the thought scared
her. But he will know, and soon; this is not something that can be hidden for
long.She had not been able to bring herself to do it; Antonin spent all his
days and nights drunk or either lost to sense after smoking too much cannabis.
She was frightened of his reaction, no matter what he might have said to the
contrary about having more children. Astoria felt as though the truth of her
condition were scrawled across her face, felt as though everyone who looked at
her too long somehow knewher secret,even though she knew that was impossible.
Elizabeth knew that something was amiss, but Astoria daren’t confide in her; if
it somehow became known that Elizabeth knew about the baby before her husband
there would be hell to pay – for both of them. Dracula did not help matters by
constantly leering at her and giving her his terrible, knowing grin whenever
their paths crossed. She knew the Vampire would not dare utter the truth to
Antonin unless he wanted a wooden stake stabbed though his black heart, so it
amused him to silently taunt her instead. She had caught Draco looking at her
once or twice, concern on his face, but he always looked away again when her
gaze met his.
 
Just before dawn, Astoria was awoken by a terrible searing pain in her left arm
and she heard Antonin twist and growl beside her. Her hand automatically flew
to her belly, her growing baby was her first thought every time she opened her
eyes now. A summons. A summons at this hour could not possibly be anything
goodshe thought nervously as she pulled her Death Eater robes on over her head
and hastily laced up her boots. She would be forced to confess her secret if
they were to be sent out to fight; if she were to be hit by a curse then it
could be very dangerous to the baby and she was unwilling to take the risk. He
will go berserk if he learns I have kept this from him.Astoria shuddered and
hurried over to join her husband who was standing by the fireplace.
 
“Incendio”Antonin hissed as he pointed his wand at the cold empty hearth which
lit up at once with dancing orange flames. Wordless, he held out his hand and
she took it as he seized a pinch of sparkling green Floo powder from the
jewelled pot on the fireplace, promptly turning the flames to emerald green.
The warm flames enveloped them both as they stepped into the fire. “The Dark
Lord’s Fortress!” Antonin barked, and they went rushing through soot and flame
before they stepped out into a dungeon, and the screams and shouts hit
Astoria’s ears like a thunderclap.
 
“Do not lie to Lord Voldemort you cringing piece of filth! He knows, he always
knows! CRUCIO!” Came the horribly familiar high, cold voice.
 
The wizard lying on the floor screamed again, his body twisting and writhing in
agony. Astoria’s eyes swept the dungeon; the Dark Lord and Snape were standing
over a wizard covered in grime, bruises and cuts as he twitched feebly on the
floor. All the Pure Blood Death Eaters were there, standing by the walls. Rowle
looked angry, Rabastan nervous and Avery seemed to be barely out of slumber;
Snape was the only Half Blood here as usual. Astoria slid in beside Elizabeth
to survey the scene.
 
“Treason, deceit and lies!” Screamed the Dark Lord, pacing feverishly about the
dim, cavernous dungeon, his black robes swirling as he fingered his wand wildly
while Nagini hissed in a dark corner. He stopped to stare around at the silent
Death Eaters, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have all been summoned
here tonight to deal with a traitor. Snape! Tell my Death Eaters of this
outrage!”
 
Snape stepped forward looking exhausted and ashen faced, pointing a yellow
finger at the half conscious wizard upon the floor. “The vile cretin before you
all presented himself at the French-German border claiming to be a wizard
wanting the honour of serving under the Dark Lord. However, it soon became
apparent through the intensive Legilimency we use against all new recruits that
this creature was hiding something and our suspicions proved true when we
uncovered the memories this fool tried so hard to conceal.” The Dark Lord gave
a scream of fury but did not utter further so Snape pressed on, “This traitor
was sent from Germany to try and infiltrate the Dark Order by turning the army
against our Lord and Master. Not only that, but the fool was armed with a vial
of Bloodroot poison which he has admitted under torture was to be used on the
Dark Lord himself.” There were gasps of shock and outrage from the surrounding
Death Eaters and many started to mutter among themselves.
 
“As if a creature such as this could poison Lord Voldemort!” The Dark Lord
sneered. “Tell it all Snape and tell it now.”
 
Snape inclined his head. “It seems that there is another traitor in our very
midst. This German informant has been secretly communicating with someone in
the army who has been passing information to him in return for sanctuary in
Germany. However, we are unable to retrieve any memory as to whom that may be,
we have tried everything.” The muttering increased, the Death Eaters glanced
around at one another and Astoria heard Antonin crack his knuckles. Who could
it be? Are they in the room just now?She wondered, for she felt certain it was
not her husband who was slavishly devoted to the Dark Order.
 
The Dark Lord’s lipless mouth twisted in fury as he continued to twirl his wand
between his long white fingers, his rage at the betrayal plain to see. “So –
so… we must resort to crude yet effective measures to root out this traitor.
Snape, fetch me the Veritaserum at once!”
 
Snape’s eyes were two dead black pits as he stared up into his Master’s livid
white face, his voice wary. “My Lord, all of the Veritaserum has been used to
interrogate many of the true foreign recruits that have joined us thus far.”
 
The Dark Lord gave an inarticulate scream of rage and slashed his wand through
the air. There was a loud smacking sound and Snape’s face snapped to the side
and he fell to his knees, grunting in pain. “I will have your HEAD!” He
screeched. “Get to making more or I swearSeverus, I shall have you torn to
pieces and fed to Nagini!” Snape bowed and stumbled from the dungeon, the metal
door banging behind him.
 
His Lordship then whirled around to face them, “I want everyone questioned!
EVERYONE! He screamed at them all, looking more terrifying than ever, his
scarlet slit pupiled eyes rolling madly in their sockets. “Drag those Half
Bloods from their hovels and make them sing! I do not care if you have to burn
down all of Paris to do it! GO! GO NOW!” And there was a great flurry of
movement as the Death Eaters hastened toward the dungeon door.
 
Soon enough, the Death Eaters came surging onto the decaying streets of the
Half Blood slums; Antonin, Yaxley and Travers who had been put in charge were
bellowing out orders as groups of them ran in all directions. Astoria pounded
after a group headed by Antonin who were making for one of those tall, narrow
buildings where the Half Bloods lived, their feet splashing and sucking in the
mud and filth.
 
“EXPULSO!”Antonin roared as they reached the door which was promptly blasted
off its hinges in a great spray of dust and splintered wood.
 
They were greeted by a revolting smell; a foul mix of sweat, faeces, vomit and
rotting food. There were no windows in this pit of despair, the only light came
from a single oil lamp which served to make their surroundings dingy and dark.
 
“Lumos”Murmured ten voices as one to reveal a dilapidated staircase and
mouldering walls spattered with blood and sick.
 
“Right, we need to organise.” Came Antonin’s voice, “Search this dump from top
to bottom and drag everyone outside to await his Lordship’s pleasure.”
 
Everyone scattered, and Astoria joined those who went crashing up the stairs;
she could hear Silas’ excited panting right behind her as the staircase creaked
and groaned. The foul smell intensified as they travelled further into the
building until they came to a long, damp corridor, lined with doors. They burst
into the first room and Astoria choked and retched as she surveyed the pitiful
sight in front of her. Like the rest of the place the room was filthy and dark;
there was a revolting pale of waste which was overflowing in the corner and
wizards were crammed onto lice ridden straw pallets on the floor. One wizard
was slumped against a wall puffing on a pipe and another was swigging strong
drink right from the bottle; Astoria could smell the powerful fumes from here
over all the filth.
 
“Up! Get up! All of you, now!” Antonin barked as many of the wizards below
began to stir and the drunkard in the corner staggered to his feet. This
apparently was not fast enough though, “I told you to GET UP!” He roared,
“CRUCIO!”Antonin directed his wand at the wizard with the pipe. The man
screamed and fell to the floor which hastened some of the others to get
sluggishly to their feet.
 
Theodore and Blaise seized a wizard from the nearest pallet and dragged him to
his feet. “You heard Dolohov, get out of here!” Blaise snarled, shoving him
toward the door.
 
The intoxicated and dazed Half Bloods were pushed, prodded and hexed through
the corridors of the vile dwelling as they shuffled obediently down to the
squalid streets below. They herded them out floor by floor; most went meekly
enough, but as they were descending the third floor one wizard who was very
drunk got tired of Antonin shoving him in the back. Enraged he whirled around
and drew out his wand – a grievous error,for Antonin reacted with blinding
speed before the other wizard could even utter.
 
“Impedimenta!”Antonin roared, bringing his wand upwards in a savage arc.
 
The wizard was blasted backwards down the stairs, his body hitting each step
with a ‘thud’ as he grunted in pain. Then finally there was a sickening crunch
and he was coughing and spluttering and when he rolled onto his back, gasping,
Astoria could see why. The wizard’s neck had been broken but it had failed to
kill him, he was coughing up rivers of blood and clutching at his throat where
a jagged piece of bone was sticking out.
 
There was a terrible gurgling sound. “Leave him there.” Antonin commanded
coldly as the wizard continued to choke on his own blood. Blaise let out a bark
of laughter, but most swept past the dying wizard without comment.
 
They next forced their way into a brothel next door. The brothel keeper had
hastened to let them in voluntarily, but Antonin had thrown him out into the
street all the same and Dashiell Selwyn knocked out half of his teeth. As seen
from the windows outside, the brothel was completely lit by red lanterns and
bathed them all in the ominous scarlet glow. The place smelled like something
between a fish market and a brewery; the moans of pleasure and the weeping of
women were all that could be heard throughout the corridors. Silas kicked down
a door to burst in on a Half Blood who was in the process of bedding the Muggle
bed slave underneath him. The Muggle woman screamed but the wizard was so
intent on his pleasure that Silas had to drag him off the bed and began kicking
him on the floor. Silas evidently decided that the bed slave was his for the
taking and he fell upon her to ‘finish the job’ as she wept and screamed.
Blaise had commandeered a flagon of coca wine and was swigging it heartily as
he smashed goblets and kicked holes in the walls.
 
“I only want the wizards! Antonin barked from somewhere around the corner. “You
can use the Muggle whores if you wish but make it quick. No need to bring those
slatterns along, there is a bond in place that keeps them from running.” His
words were followed by coarse, unpleasant laughter.
 
Astoria grimaced and walked deeper into the brothel which was far quieter than
at the front where only the best looking Muggle women were kept. She poked
through rooms full of sad eyed women and girls who were chained to the walls,
many were battered and bruised while others had been branded on the cheek to
mark them as disobedient and unruly bed slaves. Doubtless these injuries would
push their price right down for potential patrons; indeed, she had heard tell
of ‘the cheapest girls being in the back.’ Astoria hardened her heart and
looked the other way, knowing that there was nothing she could do to help them.
When she approached the backroom, she heard grunts and gasps of pleasure and
wearily resigned herself to the fact that she would have to break apart another
coupling; the thought filled her with revulsion.
 
“Alohomora”She said in a tired voice with a wave of her wand.
 
When the door opened Astoria screamed, and a wizard swore. Her cry had been
heard by the others and she heard footsteps pounding toward her, getting louder
and louder. Elizabeth arrived first and let out a gasp while the wizards let
out roars of outrage. Silas hissed with rage and whirled around to run back up
the corridor, presumably to fetch Antonin. She had come upon two
wizardscopulating with one another; one had the other up against the wall and
was plunging in and out of him as he moaned. Astoria knew that previously much
of the wizarding world were largely accepting of same sex relations, but in
Pure Blood Society this was strictly forbidden and rarely even spoken about.
She had no qualms about who people chose to lie with, but the Dark Lord had
taken things even further by decreeing that such relations were now banned –
the punishment? Castration.
 
The wizards were hastily trying to cover themselves and were spluttering out
explanations and excuses, but they were drowned out by Antonin’s furious roar;
his hatred of such men was well known. “SODOMITES!?We shall see about this…"
 
Astoria flattened herself against the wall as Antonin came striding into the
grimy room, incandescent with rage. One of the wizards dropped to his knees,
hands clasped together as he trembled like a leaf. “Mercy Dolohov! Mercy!” His
pleas earnt him one of Antonin’s vicious backhands.
 
“You – you unnatural, you vile, disgusting BEASTS!” Antonin screamed down at
the wizards who cowered before him. Antonin gave them a cold look full of
promise, “Do you know what the penalty is for sodomy, you filthy Half Blood?”
He did not wait for an answer for he turned around and snapped, “Zabini!
Norton! Get these creatures out of my sight!”
 
The next week was naught but brutal interrogations of Half Bloods and Pure
Bloods alike; no one was exempt from the Dark Lord’s relentless pursuit of the
traitor. Indeed, Astoria herself had been forced to endure fifteen unpleasant,
dizzying minutes in the company of Bellatrix Lestrange who was perhaps the most
accomplished Legilimens after the Dark Lord. Because Astoria communicated with
no one and her every move was controlled by Antonin, Bellatrix was satisfied
fairly quickly that she was not the traitor. Naturally the Half Blood Death
Eaters had it worse, not only were they subject to intense bouts of
Legilimency, but they were barbarously tortured by Dracula and Cruciated to
within an inch of their lives by their Pure Blood counterparts. But now the
Dark Lord had discovered the identity of the traitor and they had all been
summoned to the square outside his Fortress to see them judged.
 
The Dark Lord was pacing on a raised stone plinth while the German informant,
bloody and bruised was chained by the neck and held secure by a leering Troll.
The Pure Blood Death Eaters were closest to the plinth whereas the Half Bloods
were further backward. The Dark Lord had decreed that all the Half Bloods were
to be given free ale today to get them all riled up and drunk, and so they
were, for the square was a great torrent of noise and shoving bodies. Astoria
was of course stood next to Antonin who was smiling in a way that told her
someone was going to suffer. 
 
“Death Eaters!” Came the high, cold voice and silence fell at once. “Here
before you is a spy and a traitor. Lord Voldemort has judged him guilty of
treason, and the penalty for treason is death.However, this creature should not
die alone, for there is someone else whom he has been communicating with in my
realm as they have decided they do not wish to live in my New World any
longer.I can grant that wish. Rowle! Dolohov! Bring me the traitor!”
 
Astoria was not the only one who cried out in shock when she saw who Antonin
and Rowle seized. Some of the Death Eaters spat while others hurled out
insults, for between large figures of Antonin and Rowle was Jasper Crabbe.
Jasper Crabbe, one of the Dark Lord’s longest serving Death Eaters who had
joined straight out of Hogwarts. She could not believe it, the fool should have
known better, but there again the Crabbe’s were not exactly known for their
wit.
 
“How could you Jasper!? How could you!?” Screamed his wife, Freya as the rest
of the Crabbe family were clapped in irons by Marcus Flint and dragged up onto
the plinth after their doomed patriarch. There were half a dozen of them in
all, five dumpy old witches and an old wizard cousin who was a simpleton and
usually kept locked away. All of them were sobbing – they knew what having a
traitor in the family meant for the rest of them.  
 
"I was trying to protect us!" He roared at her over the tumult, "Our Vincent is
dead, he -" But his words were drowned out by the bellowing of the crowd  - and
his Lordship himself.
 
“See what befalls those who dare challenge Lord Voldemort, Death Eaters. Anyone
guilty of treason will be slaughtered, as well as each and every member of
their family.” The lipless mouth twisted in a smile as the Dark Lord turned to
Jasper. “Your lands and estates will be forfeit to the Dark Order, your family
name will be wiped from the texts of history; it will be as though you and your
House never existed, you miserable fat fool.”
 
“Just so!” Yaxley roared, staring at the wizard he had once served alongside
for years with the utmost hatred and contempt.
 
“My son died for you!” Shouted Jasper Crabbe over the torrent of abuse. “My
only son! When he died I had had enough of this, you –”
 
But Jasper never got the chance to finish “Crucio!”Shrieked the Dark Lord.
Crabbe fell to the floor and screamed, his pudgy flesh jiggling as he writhed
about upon the plinth while the crowd hurled out insults and laughed. “Get him
up!” He screeched, “Get him up!” Antonin and Rowle dragged Jasper roughly to
his feet as the man choked and spluttered. “Now, you will watch this!” the Dark
Lord snarled at him.
 
The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the dark stone floor, and slowly but surely a
circular pit began to emerge upon the surface, growing wider and deeper in
equal measures. Then Astoria heard the hissing, she took a step forward to look
and was greeted with a most sinister sight. At least fifty black and orange
rattlesnakes were slithering over one another, their tongues tasting the air as
they lashed their tails threateningly. There were great roars of delight and
the wizard began to struggle, kicking and shouting in German before the Dark
Lord silenced him with a vicious hex to his chest.
 
“Egyptian rattlesnakes.” The Dark Lord announced, his serpentine features
twisted with malicious pleasure as he surveyed his victim who trembled. “This
will not be over quickly; you and the blood traitors will die slowly and in
exquisitepain; worthy deaths indeed for filthy scum like you.” He turned back
to the watching Death Eaters. “This should serve as a reminder to ALL that
attempting to overthrow the Dark Order will not be tolerated!” Screeched the
Dark Lord. He turned his red eyes upon Antonin and Rowle and gave them a stiff
nod.
 
Grinning unpleasantly, Antonin and Rowle promptly heaved the shrieking wizard
into the snake pit as the surrounding crowd cheered with many shouting
“TRAITOR!”
 
The man hit the pile of coiling bodies below with an awful scream as the snakes
enveloped him. His screams increased in pitch as the snakes struck one - two -
three - four times until there were too many bites and stings to count as the
wizard continued to howl at the top of his lungs. The witches from the Crabbe
family clutched at each other and wept harder than ever as they saw what
awaited them. The Dark Lord had not been far wrong, for the wizard screamed for
close to an hour before he fell silent.  When Rowle levitated his body out of
the pit it was blue and swollen from all the venom and his eyeballs had run
down his face.
 
“Rowle!” The Dark Lord called over all the din, “Seal the traitor in a box and
send it to that whore Minister Geissler with the promise that we will butcher
every last citizen of her precious country when we invade! She will rue the day
she sent a pathetic spy to poison Lord Voldemort, oh how she will REGRET IT!”
The Dark Lord turned to Jasper Crabbe and hissed “And as for you,traitor, you
and your blood traitor family can join that witless spy in the pit! Kill them!
Kill them now!”
 
There was an eruption of jeers and shouting as the Crabbe family were dragged
screaming and begging from the plinth. Tankards and bottles filled with urine
came soaring from the howling crowd to spatter them as the surrounding wizards
ridiculed, spat and hooted at the family, delighting in their shame and fall
from grace.  
 
“Into the pit with them all!” Roared a tall, drunken wizard in the crowd of
Half Bloods.
 
“Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!” Others chanted as the Crabbes’ were forced through
the crowd and Astoria could almost feel the venomous hatred in the air.
 
For the crime of betraying the Dark Order, Jasper Crabbe was forced to watch as
his family were tossed into the snake pit one after another, still shrieking
for mercy. And just for good measure, Antonin conjured up a slave brand and
seared Jasper’s face, his screams mingling with his family’s as the snakes
hissed madly and sucked the blood from their bodies. Astoria longed to look
away as Crabbe’s wife struggled to clamber out of the pit while the
rattlesnakes coiled around her neck and arms, dragging her back down to the
mess of arms, legs, scales and screaming faces as the rest of the family was
devoured. 
 
Only when the screaming had stopped, the Dark Lord spoke again. “Troll!” He
screeched. “Impale their traitorous bodies upon spikes and let them rot in the
sun for all of Paris to see!” The troll gave a stupid grin as it drew out a
great metal spike from the basket and proceeded to hammer it into the ground.
 
It was almost midnight and Astoria was pacing about her bedchamber, pondering
on what might be a good time to tell Antonin she was expecting again. Tonight,
Marcel de Sade had thrown a party to celebrate the Crabbes’ deaths and she had
avoided drinking the wine as subtly as she could, terrified that someone may
notice. It did not help that Ediva de Sade was pregnant and the talk was all of
babies and children amongst the witches. She did not know if it was her
imagination, but her dress seemed just a little tighter than usual and it would
not be long before she started to ‘show.’ Then there would be nowhere to hide,
and she would be sorely punished if it was known that she deliberately withheld
the knowledge, for the baby shewas carrying was rightfully Antonin’s property
by law. Astoria jumped as the door gave a great bangand she whirled around to
behold her husband standing in the doorway and her stomach twisted with fear.
She knew the look in her husband’s eye all too well; a mixture of malice, greed
and lust along with whatever toxic substance he had snorted, smoked or drank
that night. Most nights all she had to do to keep him happy was purr and mewl
adoringly as he invaded her body but some nights he would come in, rip her
clothes off and be thrice as rough as usual. This was one of those nights it
seemed. He would ride her raw tonight, she knew, those cold blue eyes were
telling her so. Normally she would not be as scared of Antonin when he came up
to their chambers in this state, but the fresh discovery of her pregnancy made
her feel sensitive and scared with a constant need to protect herself. And all
of a sudden, she was seventeen again in the Malfoys dining hall as her husband
came at her hungrily, shoving her down onto the bed and wedging a hand down the
front of her bodice roughly.
 
“Antonin, Antonin please stop.” She begged, her voice barely above a whisper,
but he gave a derisive snort and continued to savagely rip at her skirts,
panting excitedly as he ran his hands up her thighs and clumsily fumbling with
her lingerie in his haste to rip it off.
 
Astoria pushed against his hard chest fruitlessly, the tears now beginning to
well in her eyes, but Antonin merely ground into her harder and snarled in her
ear, “Feeling feisty tonight are we my lady? Well, as you wish.”
 
“Antonin – please… please stop it!” Her pleading had turned into sobs as he
ripped through the velvet of the gown and dragged her toward him. She was
crying openly now as he shoved apart her legs and attempted to wrench her
corset off. Astoria’s weeping only seemed to arouse her husband as he shoved
his hand down his breeches and drew out his veined member – she had not cried
like this when he bedded her since the early days of their marriage. He gave
her the back of his hand before shoving his tongue down her throat – a brutal
comparison to the tender kisses she had shared with Draco all those days ago.
She felt a surge of terror and began to sob in earnest as Antonin put his hands
around her throat. Her hands flew upward to pry off his cruel fingers, but he
squeezed even tighter, cutting off her airway. Her head felt foggy, but she
knew of only one thing that might make him stop. “Antonin please!” She choked,
“Antonin, I’m pregnant!”
 
The vice like grip around her throat was relinquished at once. Her eyes were
closed but she could feel Antonin’s eyes on her as she coughed and spluttered,
massaging her throat. A moment later she felt a strong hand grab her by the jaw
and when she opened her eyes she was looking straight up into his enraged face.
 
“How long have you known this?” He snarled, shaking her roughly. “Answer me
now!”
 
“I – I mean to say… I suspect as my blood is late.” She lied, gasping as tears
coursed down her face.
 
Antonin released her and stood, and his eyes seemed to burn from drink and
rage. “Very well then, if you are telling the truth then you have naught to
fear, but if this is a trick, if this is a lie, you will NEVERsee that boy
again! Do I make myself plain?” Astoria nodded mutely as she trembled upon the
bed like a doe, burying her face in the silken sheets. “Rathburne! Get in here!
Get in here NOW!”
Chapter End Notes
     I was so glad to finally write a proper Drastoria scene and to show
     sex in a more positive light in this story. I know Astoria hates
     Antonin's guts but he is always disrespecting her by sleeping with/
     eyeing up other women all the time so it was satisfying for her to
     get her own back, (sort of) especially with the man she loves. I know
     it was super risky what they did but at the same time Astoria is
     human with her own needs/urges, and the same goes for Draco. I did
     feel kinda bad for not letting Draco finish ;-) but in a way it sort
     of represents their relationship at present: frustration and longing
     which is being cruelly denied.
     I know the Crabbe's haven't really been mentioned so far but the
     identities of those being executed isn't important, their deaths are
     more symbolic, basically in a nutshell: Pure Blood won't always save
     you.
     The Pure Blood Death Eaters rampaging through the slums was inspired
     by accounts (from my own father) of life in a country under military
     rule; soldiers were perfectly entitled to kick down the doors of
     citizens/lower ranking soldiers and drag them from their homes to
     rape/kill/rob or whatever.
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