Chapter One

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Dark. It was dark. As always.

And bloody freezing. The type of cold that you felt in your bones. The type of cold that used to make me feel hollowed out and scared.

I had gotten used to that feeling a long time ago though.

            Stone cold bitch. That's what I've been called, and I was totally fine with that title, because that's what I was. A heart of ice and a tongue like a serpent, and eyes that make the boys go wild. Guys want me, girls want to be me. That old cliché.

            I clicked my heels up the pavement path, right up to the gates that guarded the massive estate behind it.

            "Name please?" the rat-looking man at the booth said.

            "Seriously, Pettigrew? Come on, I know you know my name." I rolled my eyes as I examined my nails.

            The fidgety man looked around nervous in his small guard booth, and I was growing impatient.

            "T-the dark lord insists that everyone present their name at the door to ensure maximum security of the manor and..." he blithered like an idiot.

            "Please, rat man, no one can imitate me. Now open up before I just apparate inside." I scoffed, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

            "Y-yes, Ms. Eros." He waved a hand and the gates pulled open slowly. They're obnoxious creaking ripped through the silent air.

            I continued my walk up to the manor, and took a moment to admire how beautifully ominous it looked against the pale moonlight. Wonderfully evil.

            "Took you long enough, Rose." My father said through gritted teeth as I slid into my seat next to him.

            "Sorry father. The rat at the door was taking his sweet time tonight." I brushed my hair out of my face and folded my hands are the dark oak table in front of me. The table was full of anxiously stiff individuals, all dressed head to toe in black, some even wearing their robes. Kiss asses.

            "Don't make it a habit. We expect you to be here on time. The dark lord will not tolerate tardiness. You know that." he scolded me through tight lips.

            "I'm sorry." I whispered back. The air in the room shifted, and everyone's posture tensed. He was here. Before I could even see him, I could hear the slither of that bloody snake. Nagini. She slithered up onto the table, flicking her tongue out at everyone who was seated around it.

            Not many things scared me anymore, but two of them were in this room right now. That giant fucking snake, and the dark lord.

            He floated into the room as if he were walking on air. His slit like eyes scanned the room, and his lips curled to review his blackened teeth. Nagini slithered back to his side as he glided his sharp, yellowing fingernails along her scales.

            A lump formed in my throat the longer I looked at him, so I adverted my eyes down to my hands in my lap. The mark on my forearm peeked out from under my sleeve, and I instinctually covered it quickly.

            God it burned. Especially with him so close. My skin begged to be calmed. Scratched, itched, scrubbed, cut off...anything to make the burning subside.

            "It has come to my attention that...someone in this room...has had an alteration in their loyalties to their Dark Lord." His snake like voice hissed. I kept my head down.

            "Since the return of The Order, there have been some...whisperings about defection amongst my own trusted inner circle." He carefully twiddled with his wand and started his way around the table.

            The Order of the Phoenix was back. I had only heard rumors and whisperings of it amongst the other death eaters and back at Hogwarts...but I wasn't sure if it was true. 

            It was shocking, really. What did they think they were going to do getting their gang of washed up wizards back together? Did they really believe that they were going to defeat the dark lord? A group lead by an escaped fugitive, a werewolf, a pathetic muggle-lover, Harry Potter and his two minions? Please. Why would anyone place their loyalties with that rag tag bunch of losers?

            My heart pounded as he ghosted behind my mother, father, and I. He ran his hands along the backs our chairs, his nails clicking against the intricate patterns in the wood. I turned my head slowly once I was sure he wasn't about to stop by us, and examined the faces of everyone around the table.

            It was hard to tell who the traitor was when everyone's face looked equally as terrified. Like picking a needle out of a haystack.

            As I scanned everyone's pale faces and weary eyes, I found someone looking back at me. Staring at me nervously.

            That porcelain pale skin was basically glowing in contrast to his jet-black suit which he always wore. His white blonde hair was even brighter in this dim lighting, and his silver-blue eyes were even more piercing than I remembered.

            His jaw was tense and twitching slightly, or maybe it was trembling. I couldn't tell from down the table. His veined hands and ringed fingers were folded on the table loosely. His mark peaked out from the edge of his sleeve, just like mine.

            Once I caught his gaze, he only lingered for a moment, before turned his head slowly towards the dark lord.

            Draco Malfoy was a different breed. Cocky, arrogant. Loved to remind everyone that his father was of high authority. Went through girls like it was his fucking job. Made girls giggle and whisper as he walked past in the hallways. Sheriffed the halls pompously and incessantly with his stupid prefect badge.

            He was a man that cherished status. Loved a challenge. Enjoyed a chase. Hated to lose. That's what I liked about him the most. He hated to lose.

            Ever since our 4th year, he's made it his personal mission to add me to his long list of bedded women. He's tried it all on me. Using that pretty boy arrogance that he was far too aware of to try and seduce me into the snake pit. It didn't take him very long to realize that he had met his match, but I know he still yearned for me. He hated he couldn't get to me. Couldn't get me. I was a forbidden entity that he was always being denied.

            Toying with him was one of my favorite past times. He didn't want to admit it, but he was wrapped around my finger just like every other pathetic boy at Hogwarts. At my beck and call, whether he admits it to himself or not, but I would never give him the satisfaction of calling to him.

            "I am going to get you one day, Rosie girl. Just you wait." I remember him boastfully proclaiming in the common room sometime last year. He talked a big game any chance he got, but I knew it was all talk. Girls always fawned over his sexual prowess and their toe-curling endeavors with the Slytherin prince, but I had a feeling that their own lackluster sexual experiences were cause for the inflation of his reputation. He grabs for their throat once and they label him a sex god. Embarrassing.

            The thing about Draco and I was that we were one in the same. We both loved a challenge. We both enjoyed a chase. We both hated to lose almost as much as we loved to win. Little did he know I was the game maker. I made the rules.

            "Charles, Charles, Charles..." Voldemort curled his knobby fingers around the back of the chair of the nervous man at the end of the table.

            Too bad Charles's last few moments of life were going to be filled with pure terror. Maybe he should have thought about the mind-numbing pain that would be inflicted upon him before he went and placed any faith in Harry fucking Potter.

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