Chapter 38
April 7th, 1944
Hope
The moment we arrive, Abraxas drops me onto the floor. Hard. The impact rattles my body, and the surprise ends up with me biting my tongue. A grunt escapes me as I hit the ground, barely audible over the consistent sizzle coming from where my skin meets the wolfsbane soaked rope. My friend’s face is eerily smooth, a mask of nothingness. I know Abraxas Malfoy—he always smirks, always has some sharp remark, if not an anxious worry to voice. But this? This is empty. This is wrong.
My limbs are lead. The ropes don’t just burn; they sink into me, dragging me down. Every breath is like swallowing fire. The wolfsbane, it’s everywhere— seared into the ropes that bind me, soaked into the fibers, branding me with every touch. On my skin, in my lungs, creeping into my bloodstream. I feel it curling around my ribs, suffocating me from the inside out.
Our destination isn’t difficult to ascertain; the marble beneath me, the dim candlelight flickering off gilded accents, the crisp scent of expensive cologne and polished wood, and a color scene too familiar to even feign ignorance. We’re in Malfoy Manor, a place I never wanted to see again, let alone be imprisoned in. Deek quakes, fat tears falling from his face, his small chest heaving while he looks at me in abject horror.
“I is so sorrys Miss,” he sobs out, tugging on his ears hard enough that I swear I can hear skin and muscle tearing. “So, so sorrys—!”
Trying to push myself up into a sitting position, all I want is to reassure him, but I collapse against the floor again. Before I can try to comfort him or ask what happened, a feminine voice fills the room, “The rotten creature isn’t to blame. After all, the love of a Father is unbridled.”
The tone is smooth, elegant, and sounding far too pleased with the situation. Neither of the men around me are to blame for the kidnapping, and it seems those behind it are finally showing their faces. Straining my neck, I look behind myself where Armond and Hazel Malfoy stand side by side, a picture of wealth and power, their postures effortless. They look like such a power couple, one fit to model for some fancy magazine aimed only at Pureblood society; something like Wicked Weekly or Pompous Publishers. Puffing a breath out to move the hair out of my face, I scowl at them from where I lay on the floor.
“What did you do!” my voice is raw with rage, my body fighting uselessly against the restraints. The scent of my blood hits me, but that doesn’t halt my movements.
Mrs. Malfoy cackles, smiling like a woman on top of the world. Her husband has the decency to at least look ashamed as his gaze flickers across my form, and his lips press together into a thin line.
But his words are just as cold as his wife’s countenance, “Calm yourself, little one. You have yet to hear the two options laid before you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snarl through bared teeth while I try to summon my claws. Only, the wolfsbane is keeping my strength and abilities from helping me rip anyone’s throat out.
“My, my,” Hazel muses, mocking me with a saccharine smile. “You truly have foregone formalities.”
A growl escapes me, “I’d be happy to watch my language, but I’m a bit tied up right now.”
“I suppose that is true,” she says while giggling. As if this is all charming to her.
Taking out her wand, Mrs. Malfoy flicks it at me, and then I’m yanked into the air like a ragdoll. My stomach lurches as she leaves the room, ensuring I follow, with her husband walking between my floating form and Hazel. Moving from the sitting room, we traverse the halls, but I’m too busy watching Deek and Abraxas trailing along after me.
The former is still crying, clearly not happily helping these people, and all I want is to make it better. My friend, on the other hand, is acting like a complete stranger, a ghost of himself, offering none of the kindness I saw during the weekend he helped me with Tom after he absorbed his Horcruxes. Only cold indifference is written across his features, his movements stiff, and gaze vacant, hollow. He must be spelled somehow, under the influence of his parents, I just wish I knew how.
Arriving at an opulent ballroom, Hazel lets the spell drop, and again I crash against marble flooring. The entire space is about the size of the Great Hall, only this room is far more elegant. Stained window panels line two walls, each taller than any man, with marble columns supporting the ceiling. In a weird way, I thought that buildings like this only exist as museums now, but this space is fit for royalty.
Really, I should be more concerned that I’ve found myself in this position again, tied up in the hands of my enemies. Yet, here I am, worrying about Deek and Anthony. If the House Elves are somehow being threatened, then my fellow Ravenclaw must have been incapacitated by them when he went to the kitchens.
With a flick of her wand, a boy laying motionless in chains appears in front of me. He smells like Anthony, and when I lift my head, my eyes confirm what my nose believes— that’s my friend.
“Anthony!” I scream, fighting and trying to roll my way to him.
Only, Abraxas stomps on my stomach, knocking the wind out of my lungs and keeping me in place while looking otherwise seeming completely at ease. His mother’s cackling rings in my ears, “He cannot hear you, girl. The poison is keeping him asleep, and will until you’ve enacted your fate.”
“Just get on with it already then, Jesus Christ,” I spit at the woman. Clearly, she has a plan, so she might as well spill it.
More laughter bursts from her chest, full and delighted, but her husband’s grave voice responds. His presence looms over me, heavy with finality, “In two days, you will bind your soul to my son’s, producing at least one heir before dealing dealing with that issue from your world you’ve mentioned.”
My breath catches as my blood turns to ice. If their plan was to kill me, I think I’d like that better. This is somehow both better and much worse. Especially when logic hits me in the face.
“There’s not enough time for all that, you idiot. I have to die well before the end of the year, or do you not remember how long pregnancy takes?” I ask slowly, wondering how daft these bitches are.
Hazel rolls her eyes at me, acting annoyed that I have the audacity to be difficult, muttering something that elongates her wand. I’m so busy watching it grow like a snake tail from the handle, that I’m unprepared when the strike comes. Lucius Malfoy had his cane that kept his wand, and apparently his Grandmother has a wand that can transform into a whip. With a loud crack, the leather hits my restrained legs, making me cry out in pain. A welt the width of my wrist begins forming, bright red in anger, and I struggle to hide it before I start healing. Giving me an interesting view of Abraxas clenching his fists hard enough for his veins to bulge.
“If you want to hear your options, then interrupting is not in your best interest,” she all but sings at me. Looking far too pleased having me tied up on the floor, and I make sure to watch Anthony from my periphery.
My silence is rewarded with Armond’s continued explanation, “You will bind your soul with my son, or your fellow Ravenclaw will become one of my wife’s new experiments.”
The confusion must be evident on my face because Hazel takes the reigns back, “Nearly every great family eventually produces an heir or heiress who selfishly believes their wishes outweigh the future of their lineage. Mrs. Potts is a wonderful woman, a childhood friend of mine, and she has given me express permission to…root out the defective parts of her son.”
“So, you want your son to marry a Halfblood, otherwise you’re going to brainwash my friend into…not marrying a Halfblood?” I ask, feeling like I’ve somehow lost the plot.
She shrugs her elegant shoulders, twirling her whip-wand in one hand, “I foresaw you taking issue, so I planned for an extra incentive.” With another flourish, a second immobile body appears before me, but she’s still conscious.
This one much smaller, with huge eyes filled with tears and a gagged mouth, looking just as frightened as her Father behind me. “Choosing to be liberated or fighting against our wishes will also result in the slow, torturous death of this little elf. Of course, that route will also make you one of my experiments, however my son has informed us that this is the most likely path to end in success.”
Rage courses through my veins, and I have to actively control my breathing and eye color. Fisting my hands, I don’t bother to stop my nails from breaking skin, the scent of my blood ironically helping to calm me down. Only able to glare menacingly at my captors, I hold my tongue in favor of the general safety of everyone in this room. I’m not naive enough to believe that Abraxas willingly told his parents anything, his disdain for his pro-creators has been more than apparent. Not to mention the complete lack of gentleness or care when handling me— Malfoy is more than aware that Tom would skewer him if he heard about this.
“You will be given comfortable accommodations,” Armond details, placing his hands behind his back, and the need to look imposing as he stands above me is suffocating. “Surely, by tomorrow evening you will have come to a decision. We are looking forward to adding you to the family, regardless of the circumstances.”
“Wait! Tomorrow, I— I can’t be here,” my stomach drops as panic begins to over take me.
Tomorrow is the full moon, and I sincerely doubt that the Malfoys have Tom’s special wolfsbane potion. Regardless of my transition, of the loud and painful hour that will surely cause a raucous, having me prowl around the Manor as a werewolf couldn’t end well. With my luck, I’d run into Deek or Abraxas before getting the chance to maul the adults.
Mrs. Malfoy walks to me with exaggerated slowness, her heels clacking against the polished floors. Kneeling down, she fists my hair, tugging my head up to look at her toothy grin, “There is no where I would rather you be. I will personally enjoy every moment of your transition, and there truly is no need to worry for our safety. The dungeons have been charmed to contain worse creatures than werewolves.”
My eyes widen in horror, both at her words and the understanding that they know about me. Thoughts swirl through my mind faster than I can process, worries and half-baked solutions all mingling together. So far, staying calm has been imperative, and I’ve done a very good job. Yet, right now, I can feel hysteria starting to bubble over. The sheer delight on the manic face in front of me makes my stomach churn, and can only lead to bad things. Before I can get another anxiety-filled statement out, Hazel flicks her wand at me again, and everything goes black.
****
April 8th, 1944
Hope
Coming to feels like my soul has only just been summoned back to my body. My eyes fly open— I gasp for air, a violent, ragged breath, like I’ve only just surfaced from drowning, and sit up while frantically scanning my surroundings. Blurry vision and a spinning head makes me blink furiously, but the haze of warm candlelight quickly abates, leaving me in a clear room with suffocating silence. Another place I recognize, covered in purple, and I’m laying in a bed I’ve been in before.
Despite being in the same guest room I stayed in over Solstice, I feel no comfort in the familiar. The silver lining is that I’m alone, and still wearing the same Ravenclaw clad clothes I had on before my arrival. Outside, the sky is pitch black, with an almost-full moon hanging prominently up above, meaning it’s likely the middle of the night. Dragging a shaking hand down my face, grounding myself as my heart pounds furiously in my chest.
While I have been in worse situations, this somehow feels so much more dire. The first thing I do is hide my engagement ring behind a glamour, not wanting it to be confiscated at any point. Tom will surely be looking for me, my biggest wonder is who will start burning shit down first; him or Mary. A bitter laugh catches in my throat and I shake my head. Without Abraxas nearby, I’m sure my evil genius fiance will figure it out quickly, but that only leads to another problem.
If someone saves me, then what happens to Anthony and Dopney? They’re still here, somewhere, and I have no clue what state they’re in. Seeing them solved a couple mysteries, and yet I don’t feel any better. Regardless of my cooperation, I wouldn’t put it passed the female Malfoy to mess with my friend’s head. Is being in love with a beautiful, talented, wonderful witch such a bad thing? Just because she isn’t a Pureblood from an advantageous family?
Well, at least now I fully understand why he only ever talks about his dad, apparently Mrs. Potts is a-okay with her son being no better than a guinea pig. I’ll have to remember to pay her a visit once this is all done, whether I’m married or not. Talking some sense into her might not work, but my fists are very persuasive.
Standing from the giant bed, I decide to first try to save Anthony, Dopney, and Abraxas. The hero in me won’t allow this damsel to accept distress, so I race to the exit. Which, naturally, is more than simply locked shut. That would be too easy. No, when I reach to touch the door, I get electrocuted. Not just a baby zap, but a full-on, body-shaking, hair-frizzing shock that has me on my ass. It’s like grabbing raw electricity, the intensity dizzying. Now, my head is pounding, and I rub my lower back as my aches quickly heal. Okay— so no door.
But, if I can’t get into the rest of the house, how can I find my friends? Trying the windows would be pointless, I would then have to find somewhere to sneak back in, and the Manor is likely warded. That rescue mission would implode the second I stepped outside, and two lives are currently hanging in the balance. Groaning, I press my forehead against the carpeted floor, hugging my body. Trying to remember everything I can about the Manor from the books, I wonder if there’s something from there that can help me out of this pickle. There has to be a way out, didn’t Hermione get tortured here?
Inspiration hits me, and I whisper-shout, “Dobby!”
He immediately pops into my room, the air thick and crackling with magic, seeming more nervous than I like. Looking so small, and shaking like a leaf in a violent wind. With his brown skin looking pale, almost ashy, and blood shot eyes.
Wringing his hands in front of himself, he makes sure that his squeaky voice stays quiet, “Hello, Miss.”
Exhaling in relief, I let my body sag for a second. This is the elf that saved Harry Potter and his friends, the same one I helped all those months ago. Because of him, I had to tell Tom about his future, and ended up happier than I thought possible in this world. He is the bright light in this dark tunnel I’ve found myself in.
“Thank goodness you’re here. I know this is a lot, but is there any way for you to help me out of this?” I force out, already feeling bad for asking such a big thing.
“I is sorrys, Miss,” Dobby tells me, bowing his head and fidgeting with his droopy ears. “The Miss must stays here. If evles helps yous, then wes are spelled to…to dies.”
A sharp inhale escapes me, “Wh-what?”
Trembling, he gaze meets mine, his glassy with guilt, “Wes is cursed. If wes tries to helps escape, wes is…gone.”
He swallows hard, hiccuping another sob, and I pull him into a big hug. Throwing his little arms around me, Dobby sits on my lap while I comfort him. This is so wrong, how could someone do this to anyone, let alone their staff. Stopping them would have been enough, but having death loom over their heads if they even attempt to help me?
Talk about overkill. I’m also trying to think, come up with some kind of plan that would bypass whatever the Malfoy’s cursed their elves with. In a way, I shouldn’t be surprised. The last time I was here, I bargained for House Elves rights. If I was keeping me hostage, they would be the first beings I would ensure could not assist in an escape. Maybe there’s a way to counter the curse?
“Do you remember exactly what they did or said? Any possible way to go around their rules, maybe a loophole?” I might be grasping at straws, but it’s worth the effort. The worst he can say is no.
Unfortunately, when Dobby looks up at me, he shakes his head, “Wes do not remember. Wes told wes must brings Miss foods, helps Miss get readys, but must not helps Miss out of wedding.”
“Let me guess, that means you can’t save Anthony or Dopney either?”
He solemnly nods, and my head falls, resting against his forehead. The elves won’t be my saving grace, not like in the books or movies. Before I can fall too deep into depression, Dobby gently places a hand over mine, “Do not worrys. Wes gives Miss good life, and Master Abby has the smarts. Alls the things are okay.”
“Thank you, Dobby,” I say with the ghost of a smile, squeezing him in my arms for a moment.
It isn’t his fault that his words aren’t really reassuring, he’s doing his best. In a way, giving me a good life might make them feel better about not helping me escape. Pampering the hostage seems to be the only thing within their power, and I can’t fault them for that. Extricating himself from my lap, the elf gives me an encouraging smile, and then apparates out of the room.
Letting out a fury saturated baby-scream, I jump to my feet, having to steady myself when my knees wobble. But, I don’t stop. My next attempt includes ransacking the room. Pulling every drawer open, checking behind any furniture, even beneath the mattress. No weapons, no keys, no conveniently labeled folders detailing any master plans or blueprints. Not even the bathroom has anything that could be useful, I sincerely doubt shoving q-tips down my captures throats is a feasible plan.
A closet door calls my name, my fingers trembling as my hope slowly wains, and I swing it open before my jaw drops. Hanging in front of me, swaying ever so slightly, is a wedding dress. But, not just any wedding dress, my wedding dress. The one I picked out, the one I loved. The one I was supposed to wear on my terms. My knees buckle, sending me back to what must be my favorite place. Staring at it from the floor, I don’t bother choking down the sobs that wrench their way out.
I’m supposed to marry the person I choose, the one I want. Abraxas isn’t some awful troll or anything, but he isn’t mine. There’s someone else in this world for him, just as there’s someone else for me. How am I going to get out of this one?
Saving Dopney and Anthony is my number one priority, and thankfully there’s some time to come up with a plan. Right now, though? Right now all I have room for is crying. For my friends, for my fiance, and, most importantly, for me.
*******
Hope
“Miss Mikaelson, have you come to a decision yet?” Armond inquires with a superior air. His voice is smooth, measured, carrying the weight of a man used to getting his way. Standing in the middle of the room like he owns it, like he owns me.
Thankfully, his bitch of wife didn’t tag along for what feels like a shake down, but that’s the only good thing happening. I don’t answer immediately, too busy biting my nails to respond to this asshole. For nearly the entire day, I was left to my own devices, so he can wait until I’m good and ready to respond. Still, I glare at the man that wants more than anything to be my Father-in-law. Going about it in one of the worst ways possible.
Spitting a nail out, “I don’t want my friends to be hurt or die. It isn’t like you gave me actual options, I’m sure that was by design.”
His sigh is slow, deliberate, as if this whole thing is tedious paperwork he doesn’t want to deal with. Deigning to look out the window, Malfoy Sr. gazes over the manicured grounds while he tells me in an almost wistful voice, “Truly, this is not the way I wanted to gain our next generation. While I understand our methods may seem egregious, they are merely in the best interest of my family. Surely, you can sympathize with that?”
“I could,” I start, letting out a sharp, humorless laugh. Wishing more than anything I could slit his throat with no repercussions— but, I don’t move from where I lay on the bed. “Except your plan will end up with everyone from my family dying, so sympathy? Not on the table. Better come up with a different tactic.”
“Troubling myself with the happenings of another world would be a waste of time. Seeing as I have no power over there, it would be a fool’s errand,” he explains through tight lips, rolling his shoulders while putting one hand in his pocket. As if dismissing the weight of the lives of so many that I care about.
I almost wish I was still alone. The elves come to bring me food, and I was starting to feel like I was going insane being trapped in this lavish room. Putting aside the need to escape, to not be forced into an intense marriage with someone I only see as a friend, there isn’t even a TV here to keep me entertained.
No phones, no games, nothing fun. Not a single goddamn distraction to keep me sane. My feistiness is officially Mr. Malfoy’s problem, seeing as he’s the only outlet I have. In another life, I’d feel bad about it. However, if I was holding someone hostage, I wouldn’t expect them to be polite about it.
Scoffing, I stand up, crossing my arms and cocking out a hip, “Except that you do— by hindering me. Your actions will directly impact every single person in my world, magical or otherwise.”
“While that is unfortunate, those in your world will have to handle their own problems. You are in this world, it may be time that you act like it,” he tells me in an even tone.
Blinking, for a moment I only stare at Armond. I can tell that he tries to say this kindly, but I only end up feeling sorry for Abraxas. He really does deserve better parents than this cold, unflinching shell of a man.
Is that really the best he has? Telling me to accept the world I’ve ended up in, as if abandoning my one real tie back to my home will somehow make his actions alright? Letting a low chuckle, I savor the flicker of irritation that crosses his face.
Which brings me to the only thing a Mikaelson can do in an impossible situation; threaten my capture, “That probably sounded better in your head. But, if you actually believe that I’m going to comply my entire life with your wishes, then you’re a shit judge of character.
“If you pull this off, you might gain a daughter-in-law, but I promise on my dying breath that we will run away together. Abraxas and I don’t have to go back to my world, we can go to a different one, to a place you have no power over. Forcing me into this marriage means you will never see your son again. Ever.”
“Then I suppose I will have to find a way to ensure your continued participation in this family,” Armond all but snarls. It seems he doesn’t take threats well, based on the way his expression darkens, and every semblance of kindness vanishes. When I notice his white knuckles, clenching his fists so tightly his hands shake, I smirk.
“How can you even do this?” I question, taking a daring step towards the man. Making sure to sound just as accusatory as I should. “He’s your son, and he’s currently under the influence of magic. Is that what a successful lineage looks like? Is this good parenting?”
Waving my hands around, I really put my all into scolding my friend’s Father. “For crying out loud, both my parents are dead, but I feel bad for Abraxas. Better to be orphaned from loving parents than be related to people like th—”
Taking a step back from me, I guess I hit a nerve. His face distorts in rage, fixing his footing before yelling over me, “You do not speak to me in this way. Becoming a member of the most affluent wizarding family in the country is an honor for someone of your status. Instead of throwing this tantrum like a child, you should be thanking us profusely. I did not come here to be disrespected by an underage witch!”
“No, you came here expecting your hostage to be cowed by two over important, spoiled bitches. Meanwhile, you and I both know that if it wasn’t for the lives of people I love in the balance, I would kick your ass from here to China. There’s only so many people you can threaten, so many tactics to think up, but eventually, you won’t have anything over me. That day, Armond, is the day that you pray to your gods wishing you had never even heard my name,” I fire back, letting my eye color change for the last statement and my magic gather around me.
A violent wind goes through the room, making the curtains and bedding fly around. Every candle around the room is suddenly lit, blazing small infernos that likely singe the wallpaper. Against all his wishes, fear noticeably enters his expression for a moment before he can right himself. Still, his nostrils are flared and his posture is stiff, as though physically resisting my words.
“Noted,” he states gruffly, turning his back to me on his way to the door. “I will inform my wife of your cooperation.”
******
Hope
Scratching my neck, I try to adjust the collar without snarling like an animal. The dungeons are somehow much less comfortable and much more equipped than Hogwarts. In theory, the Malfoys have been torturing people since the school’s inception— at least assuming that Tom and his gang are a unique student club. Ample chains cover my body, over which is only a thin, white slip, but I’m not cold. I’m fucking burning up, my skin itching, feeling to tight, and my muscles coil, cramp, and spasm as the heat becomes truly unbearable.
Making me beg the sun to finally fall below the horizon so I can just get this over with. Safely behind three sets of gates, perched in an ornate chair, Hazel Malfoy sits with a martini glass, acting like her favorite play is about to begin. The worst part of this, is that I can’t even want to break free and attack the smug succubus across the way. Ever the cunning Slytherin, she made sure to bring both Abraxas and Deek along with her, the latter having a leash around his neck. Only my bones will break tonight, but I won’t be the only one tortured.
“Aren’t you a sight?” she muses, taking a slow, indulgent sip. “Burning from the inside out, unless that blush is for your state of dress?”
I don’t react, focusing on a spot on the floor. There’s no need to entertain the woman, she seems plenty amused as is. That doesn’t stop her from continuing her pestering.
“There is no need for embarrassment, little one. Being a lady, I am more than aware of the happenings beneath a gown, and your husband-to-be will have free reign of your body in the morrow. We are hardly people you need to feel shy around,” her tinkling laughter echos through the empty cells, putting me even more on edge.
This time, I glare at her, fully aware there are more here than just the two Malfoys. With a knowing smirk, she twirls the end of the leash in her grip around on finger, taunting me with Deek’s unwilling submission.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m super not thrilled about anyone here seeing me practically naked, especially my classmate. But, giving in to her game will only make me feel worse than I already do. Dobby wasn’t given much of a choice, either I put the skin-tight, nearly see-through under garment on with nothing else or he gets hurt.
The order included informing me of the fine print, making me a much more willing, if resentful, werewolf. Based on how she instructed her son to chain me up, telling him to enjoy the action how any fiance would, I’m pretty sure he’s under the Imperius Curse. Abraxas looked at me in a way he never has, but the glazed over eyes saved me from questioning him in any way. Once he was done, I was left shackled to a wall or the floor by my neck, wrists, waist, and ankles.
It wasn’t the most unpleasant experience of my life, given the various forms of actual torture and torment I’ve endured, but neither of us truly wanted Malfoy to gently stroke my skin. Nor the exploratory hands that treated this more like an appetizer to a much longer meal rather than the exploitation it was.
I don’t want him to be my future, I genuinely want Tom, but a part of me is starting to wonder if I’m going to make it out of this one. My transition is prolonging the ceremony, but I doubt by very long. Something tells me they don’t plan on waiting far into the day before sending me down the aisle. There’s no time to think ahead, the sun has officially set, made evident by the magical representation Mrs. Malfoy summoned, and I flinch when more laughter echoes in the stone dungeon.
“It is time, little one,” Hazel lilts, bouncing with hungry delight. Neither of her companions speak, not even being ordered to show excitement could make my friends happy about seeing me turn into a wolf. “Scream pretty for me, I would wager you have an exceptional voice.”
My sneer only goes so far in this attire, but that’s the only reaction I give. When I glance at Deek, the tiny elf is shaking so violently his ears are flapping. My heart tugs for the poor creature, and the bitch notices.
With a smile, she commands, “Deek, be a good elf and so stop crying. You’ll make our guest feel unwelcome.”
Throwing his hands over his mouth, he looks at me with tear filled eyes as he smothers his sobs. There’s no need for mind magic, it’s clear that he’s begging me to forgive him for bringing me here, but I can’t tell him there’s nothing to apologize for. None of this is his doing, his wishes, but saying as much would only incur more of Hazel’s cruelty.
No, speaking would only be a waste of breath, and I got plenty of rage out when telling off Armond. Which also made me start thinking about the impossible; them beating me. If…if I have to bind my soul to Abraxas, I can’t lie and say I won’t be heart broken. We both would be, once he realizes what his parents forced us to do.
The left humerus is the first bone to break, making me yelp, rattling my chains as I hold the injured arm. A resounding cackle makes me seethe with rage, but I don’t bother fighting the inevitable. Next is the right tibia, my calf tilting at an unnatural angle. Deek is openly sobbing again as he wails, using his clothes to stifle the snot flowing with the tears while he cries out for me. Who could keep from screaming?
Well, other than Abraxas who was ordered to stay quiet after his last meager display of anticipation. Despite that, I’ve given up looking to him for comfort. The blank, unfeeling mask only makes me more sad, making me miss the friendly recognition I took for granted.
No matter how much Hazel claps or whistles, singing my praises only to quiet when I shout again, I can’t keep it inside. To start, I’m more worried about the small amount of pain relief it allows, but as more tears fall from my face, the more it becomes about my hatred of the situation. Bashing my head against the ground as the beast within starts to take over, I find myself salivating at the thought of ripping apart her throat.
“Beautiful, just lovely. Although, ensure not to lose your voice, I would hate to force a healing potion down your throat at sunrise,” my captor lilts in a smug voice.
That does catch my attention, even if I don’t verbally respond. Finally making eye contact with the woman so intent on enjoying my pain, Hazel grins like a fiend. Confusion must be evident on my sweat-soaked face, because her smug voice pierces my ears again.
“Oh, did the elves not inform you?” she mocks, knowing full well that the elves will tell me things when and if she demands they do. “Sunrise is your wake up call, little one. Your wedding will commence the moment you are presentable, seeing as my handsome son will only take moments to ready himself.”
My eyes widen, but another scream tears its way from my throat. This time, my spin buckles, straining my muscles, and twisting my body like a pretzel. The canines of a werewolf pierce through my gums, and I feel the telltale cracking of the bones in my face. A snout will soon form, but for now it feels like popping thousands of pimples around my nose, something I was told feels like directly stabbing the nerves beneath your eyes. In short, agonizing pain that pulls animalistic whimpers from me.
“I do wonder…how much pain can you take before you start begging?” Hazel asks no one in particular. Simply speaking for the sake of hearing her own voice, but a bright flash catches my attention.
Where she pulled such a big camera out of, I have no idea, but this is something she really was looking forward to, apparently. “How long until you break?”
Oh please, as if this is my first transition. Just because this is the only time I’ve had a sick, sadistic audience, who now has a souvenir to savor the experience, doesn’t mean that she’ll get more than my cries of pain. I’m a Mikaelson, I do not beg, do not break. I refuse.
Not even as more bones shatter, tearing me apart to stitch back together in a new form. The childlike delight radiating from my potential Mother-in-law is enough to make me nauseous, but my body is too busy at the moment to empty my stomach.
At the end of the day, I might be able to live with this marriage if I could destroy Hazel and Armond’s picture of the future of the Malfoy line. There would be no waiting, Freya and Rebekah are getting my blood by the end of my birthday. Hell, I’ll willing be only almost seventeen forever in exchange for sterilizing their son in death. Not to mention, if Lucius is never born, then Narcissa doesn’t need to be either. Meaning that Cygnus’ life now also hangs in balance, seeing as I wouldn’t want two thirds of his daughters born in the event the Malfoys win.
Maybe this was my fate, to be thwarted at every turn until I became the evil plague the witches foretold about at my birth. The urge to do good is slowly slipping away the closer my deadline becomes, everything I’ve thought of or tried has failed. So, while suffering every agonizing second of my long transition, chained in a dank cell, I’m plotting the fall of the two people that might actually pull one over on me.
My friends know better than to come for me on a full moon, fingers crossed they know not to use me as a distraction. That has bad idea written all over it, but I also haven’t heard anything. Getting messages to me isn’t easy right now, but I was counting on someone making a stink about my mysterious absence. Unfortunately, I think I was kidnapped by competent people, even if their choice of victim wasn’t the smartest.