Dearest Nagini..
The inevitability of her demise was lustrous to the finest degree, so much so that I barely got a wink of sleep last night dwelling on the thought. That deck of cards I had confiscated did only a little to distract me from my fantasies.
Inscribed on that deck, nourished in gold detail were words of Latin that I did not recognise.
"Dormancy figes impios, lusus stulti lusi."
Never before had such language compelled me to confusion. Not a single book I owned would point way to decoding the script nor simplify it to a decent English translation. There was no doubt in my mind that this deck of cards wasn't meant for playing a game of poker, it had an unyielding dark energy encased within; one that was begging to be released. I just had to figure out how.
The morning arrived, crashing over the horizon with crisp air and a jovial glimmer of sun. It contrasted the drizzle that had fallen the day prior. Though I couldn't begrudge it, since that same rain is what led me straight in to the path of sweet Rose. All it had taken was a small amount of rain, a little acting and precise timing to have her take pity on a damp stranger seeking refuge in her shop doorway.
I had gone over the details of her face relentlessly as I stared up to the ceiling of my room, encased beneath the comfort of cotton sheets. Her cheeks were plump and flushed with colour, and she had one rogue curl in her hair that spiralled down behind her ear. Slender fingers that held the coffee cup tightly, and an airy voice that carried no hint of malice whatsoever.
Rose Ramiro was in fact, the perfect sort of human in the sense that nothing sinister lurked inside of her in the same way it did me.
The final hour of morning I had left before I would need to leave for another painstaking day of working under the stern eye of Mr Borgin was spent flicking through history books. Ramiro was quite a specifically un-British last name, and if I could at least pin-point the origins then I may be able to identify the general area of the world of the illusive 'mother-land' she spoke of.
The closest I got was that it was of Spanish origin, but that didn't mean that Rose herself was from Spain or Portugal, it could extend as far out as Latin-America. This was going to be a task to whittle it down but one I was willing to persevere at. I had to find her Achille's heel, find common ground to gain her trust.
I can't have her interest waiver or dwindle, I needed her to want to trust me. I needed my lovely Rosie to be the sacrifice, the purer the soul the stronger the bond to the Horcrux.
Shrilling screams erupted through the house, ah, they've just found the cat I executed. Served their right for allowing it to just roam the house freely. Keep your dirty pets out of my way and maybe I won't have to rectify the situation. But I do enjoy the sounds of sobs, it ignites something in me that much else can. Anguish, it's so wonderful.
So I waited until the wailing died down, pun intended, before I dared to leave the room after dressing for work. Only helping myself to cereals before exiting the house with a loud bang as the front door rattled on it's hinges. It could fall off, and I'd still not give a fuck, the sooner I can get out of here the better.
London's streets were already busy and bustling with filthy muggles all mingling between each other to get to their destinations. Born to work, and then just die. Programmed to believe that's the key to happiness, misery filled weeks just for a once a month high when they get paid pittance just to keep afloat and not starve.
No ambition, just settling for what they're given.
Their only day of rest granted just to worship an entity that doesn't exist, so that they can give themselves a hopeful excuse for their relentless pain and suffering. Never acknowledging that most of it they create and bring on themselves. Foolishness.
And upon approaching Diagon Alley via the Leaky Cauldron, just like every other day I was weakened by my need to just stop by Wiseacre's and peer in at my little victim. The street wasn't too busy yet, business's only just setting up for the days trade.
But then there she was, through the glass window that settled wonkily on the pane. Tottering around stacking shelves and arranging items neatly. At least she too possesses the need to have things presented in an orderly manner. Her skirt was above the knee today, and her calves strained when she rose to her toes; pushing a jar of broom polish to a higher shelf.
Caramel skin that was dotted with a few beauty marks and freckles, the skin of the back of her neck had been exposed to fresh air as the dark chocolate hair on her head had been coiled up in to a sleek ponytail. My only wish to get closer to that skin would be to bite in to it mercilessly hard and then drink the blood that seeped out from the perforated flesh.
Seldom I get aroused, especially sexually but I could taste her blood in my mouth just by thinking about it. To create a Horcrux one must drink the blood of their victim, to absorb their life essence in replacement for the one you encase in to the Horcrux itself.
It churned my insides as excitement travelled down in knots from my stomach to in-between my legs. Then she pivoted on her heel, bending forward to retrieve another jar from the cardboard box that would too join the shelf. Her breasts were not large, but rounded and supple.
A slight pebbling of her nipples making themselves known through the fabric that hugged her torso, it was a cold morning so she couldn't be blamed for that at least.
"Excuse me, can I get past please? Unless you're also waiting to go in?"
I grunted in disapproval before standing aside to allow the customer past, but darted out of sight as the bell above the door rang, bringing Rose's attention to the entry where I had been loitering mere seconds before.
It too signalled that I should be arriving at Borgin and Burke's any minute now, so I ambled down the uneven pathways and in to Knockturn alley where cloaked figures were already loitering. One approached as I arrived to my destination. And it spoke sinisterly with it's deepened voice, unable to distinguish if it was male or female, or even human at all.
"Could I interest you in any of these?" It asked, opening up it's cloak that was lined with a row of pockets full of trinkets and such. "No, you certainly cannot."
"Are you sure? What I carry contains great power and riches, to the right person they could be priceless."
So I leered forward, catching a quick nostril full of a pungent aroma that was undoubtedly bitter breath and body odour. "I already have great power. Nothing you own is of any use to me, that much I'm certain of. So back off or I'll slay you where you stand in the next minute."
"I have with me a love potion so potent that it can have your intended target ready to commit an entire lifetime to you, with absolutely no side effects. Unlike Amortentia. It was brewed in Normandy, imported by boat."
"Oh," now that did pique my interest, quickly having me step back in thought. "No side effects whatsoever?"
"None." The anonymous punter grinned, confident in his sale and eager to offload such an item of illegality. "How much?"
"One 10ml vial will set you back 45 galleons, although larger amounts are available at a more costly price."
I went over the thought for an unnaturally amount of time, squinting as I acquiesced. "Very well, hand it over."
"Ah-ah, payment first," replied the seller. Holding out a dirty, long nailed and calloused hand. With reluctance I fisted through my pockets for the money, it was at least half of what I had available to me right now but it would be perfect for Rosie and I's planned coffee meeting later. "Here you absolute cretin. Now hand over the goods!"
And hand them over they did, a vial of lavender coloured liquid encased in a crystal vial. Aptly slipped in to my pocket as I shooed away the stranger with contempt and disgust. Entering the shop with a half-assed and false thin smile on my face.
"Late!!!" Mr Burke bellowed, in that single worded code language that I loath. "Well there was someone flouting around outside acting strange so I saw them off before coming on in. Besides we don't open for another ten minutes?"
Clearing his throat in the most obnoxious and sickening way, being sure to hack back the phlegm he just hummed to himself and clattered around without so much as a thank you.
"Letters here. You."
"Could you speak coherently for once by any chance? I try my best to understand you but frankly you chat complete shit at least 99% of the time?"
"Hmph, thin ice. Attitude."
I rolled my eyes and grit my jaw to swallow away the urge to burst in to a foul tirade of abuse. After all I needed this job, as much as admitting it infuriated me. "So there's been post for me this morning I take it?"
Sliding from one shelf to the other on a wheeled ladder he just grunted and groaned in agreeance, sending a flurry of dust to blanket the already stale, cluttered and dirty old shop.
The letters were indeed strewn across the front desk without any due care, some addressed to the shop itself but one that stood out, addressed to me. Tearing open the envelope I caught a paper cut but suckled away the nodule of blood before pulling out the parchment to scan the words engrained in the paper.
My Lord,
I have found a group of young recruits that are willing to pledge allegiance to you here in Albania. I think you will be most impressed with my more recent acquaintance though. A young woman, name of Nagini. She carries a blood maledictus curse, her curse gives her the ability to transform in to a snake at will. But the curse is terminal, and as time passes she will eventually be unable to return to her human form. Escaping from a life lived in captivity performing as nothing but a circus attraction she is filled with rage and seeks revenge on those who treated her as a freak of nature. She is most willing and eager to join our ever growing army my lord, and has requested to take the dark mark of her own accord. I have of course explained that I am unable to perform such a task myself.
I hope this reaches you in an orderly fashion, my lord. I eagerly await your next instruction.
Your ever loyal servant, Abraxas Malfoy.
I folded the note up quickly and buried it in to my waistcoat pocket before any prying eyes could make any enquiries. But that certainly is important and impatient news.
A witch with such power could propel our army to new heights with ease. And only a fool would turn down the offer of someone so actively desperate to serve me. My only difficulty now, being able to travel unsuspected. Tethered to my responsibilities here at the shop, and now my want, no, my need to groom and brainwash little Rosie in to becoming my next kill.
Fortunately the day shall pass much quicker now after receiving such bosting and compelling news. Abraxas has served me well indeed, so far anyway.
The ticking clock on the wall might tick and chime a little faster than usual now, since I've the joy of seducing Rose with the promise that I can indeed make good on my promise of reaching out to my contacts in Europe. Just not for the reasons that she thinks.