Dark Blood // D.M.

THE CONVERSATIONS

TW: Rape/Sexual Violence 

Armena Riddle-Lestrange 

I laid in bed, Draco's arm strung over my chest as he slept peacefully. I turned my head watching him as he stirred on his stomach, his head nuzzling into the pillow. I waited until the house was dead silent before I made any moves. For my plan to work, everything had to go off without a hitch. I carefully peeled off Draco's heavy arm, laying it down across the bed. I slid out of the bed, my toes touching the cold wooden floor. My mirror laid in shattered bits of broken glass, dark red blood staining the reflection. Draco's Death Eater mask laid on the floor, next to our piles of clothes. I slipped on my black dress and quickly laced up my boots, before throwing on my long black cloak. I slowly opened my door, hearing the old wood creak on its hinges. I glanced back at Draco, who laid passed out on my bed, snoring loudly— no thanks to my special mixture of Dreamless Sleep. I twisted the vial in my hand tucking, it into my cloak.

"Lumos" I cast, sending a glow to the end of my wand.

I carefully walked down to the end of the hall and peeled open the portrait of Cyrielle Lestrange, the second. The portrait's eyes blinked awake from my pull on the edges of the frame. My great, great, great uncle glared at me, giving me a stern look.

"Put that light out silly girl!" he grumbled.

"Sorry" I whispered, "Just passing through."

I finally yanked the portrait open and stepped inside to the darkly lit passage. I took in a deep breath before entering the dark hall. I held out my wand, illuminating the way. I could hear the mice squeaking under my feet as my boots echoed down the stone passageway. I walked down the stairs, feeling my long black cloak trail behind me. I let out shallow breaths, watching as puffs of white smoke formed where my warm breath met the cold air. I stepped off the last stair, looking both ways before I continued my journey.

"Madam Lestrange" a scrawny snatcher peered up at me from his post in front of the iron cage.

"I would like to have a word with the prisoner" I hissed.

"But I was told that—" the weak man stuttered.

I held up my hand cutting him off.

"I am the one in charge here. I do not care what you have been told previously. I need to talk to the prisoner" I hissed, I held my wand up to his throat. "Unless, you want to not see the light of day tomorrow, I suggest you move and get out of my fucking way."

I watched the man swallow and move out of the way. He pushed himself up against the far wall, trying to put as much space between us as possible. I turned my head looking at the guard from head to toe.

"Somnum" I cast.

The scrawny snatcher collapsed on the stone cold ground, snoring loudly. I turned my head glancing at the large lock. I knew the locks in this home could only be unlocked with Lestrange pure blood. I pulled out a knife in my pocket, running the sharp blade against the crease in my palm. Dark blood pooled on the surface of my skin, ready for use. I clenched my fist together, dripping the crimson on the rusted brass lock. The heavy metal crashed to the ground, the sound of metal hitting stone echoing loudly down the passage. I pulled open the heavy gate, stepping into the prison cell.

Naomi was curled up in a ball, with her head between her knees. The only sign of warmth was the tattered, old blanket that she had wrapped around her small shoulders. She looked up at me, her blue eyes glowing in the moonlight from the small window. I pulled off the hood of my cloak revealing my face to her.

"Armena!" she shrieked, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I returned the hug, pulling her in close to my body and rocked her from side to side. I pulled away, my hands cupping her face tenderly. She had dirt marks on her face, blood smeared over her neck and forehead.