Perfectly in Pieces

Chapter 45: Antonin

Once again, I can assume from the title that you all are aware this chapter is dark. TW!! - include shared perspective of a man who enjoys manipulating, abusing sexually, mentally and emotionally. VERY disturbing scenes.

If you are not comfortable reading this chapter, there is a summary of key events without the disturbing details at the end in the chapter notes.

Please do whatever you need to do for your mental health.

All rights are reserved to J. K. Rowling
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"We believe it is promising. It is from the two spies that have the greatest track record of giving leads that come through. If Ginevra Weasley is there, is the protocol still to keep her alive and bring her directly to you? Or has it changed since you are gone?"

Antonin sits back in his chair, and gulps the last of the liquor in his glass. It was shit. Cheap and watered down no doubt.

"I will be back for the spectacle tonight. So the protocol stands in place. Bring her to the house if the lead does procure her."

"Yes sir. Anything else you are in need of?"

The boy really was a twat like the little Malfoy said. A kiss arse if he had ever seen one. He didn't like him. But he could use Flint and his obvious desire to please him to his advantage.

He looks over to the clock in his rented room. It was almost time for his appointment. He needs to get going.

Soon my pet...

"Sir?"

Antonin shakes his head, and looks back at the image of the tosser in the fireplace. "That is all Mr. Flint. Contact me as soon as you have something."

He cuts off the connection and stands to grab his robes. He transfigures the piece of clothing into something more appropriate for the occasion, and walks out of his room.

100 days. It has been exactly 100 days since he had it, enjoyed it, trained it. He was losing his damn mind.

The last three months had been the worst of his life without it. The moving images had held him over for some time until Nott's fucking machine fried everything. Ever since then he had been spiraling. Even he can admit that.

He needed it. And not just a quick interaction at a spectacle, or an opportunity to stare and watch it be placed on the fucker's knee, like it belonged to him. Like it wanted him.

You want me.
You belong to me.
Me.
Always and forever to me.

He sinks his hand into his pocket that holds a piece of it. To calm him down. He walks down the stairs and out the door towards his appointment. He would never be coming back to this country after his business here was done. The food, the accent, the animals and bugs fucking everywhere.

Why anyone chooses to live on this continent is beyond me.
Don't worry pet, I will never bring you here.

The office address that he had finally found was four blocks away. Luckily it wasn't raining and the pavement wasn't crowded with the after work traffic just yet.

The light before him flashes green, and he and two other blokes cross the road. Antonin knows they are here. He had seen it in it's mind. Along with part of the name it had given them.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, and knocking out the other Death Eater in the way, he had taken his prize back to base and enjoyed it for the first time before even meeting with his Dark Lord about it's capture. He recognized it from a few years earlier. Recognized the scar that was definitely from him running along it's abdomen. It was the mudblood. Harry Potter's mudblood.