The Truth Behind the Veil ✔️

A Dagger To My Name.

TW:
Torture, blood, stabbing, daggers.

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Fawn couldn't tell you how long she had been trapped under the Death-Eater's watchful presence. All she knew was that she woke up some time later locked away in some sort of dungeon.

Her wand was missing though she had expected that. Everything ached. The darkness kept lulling her back to sleep for days at a time in between the torture. The white shirt she had been wearing during the game night was now soaked in blood that had still not yet dried. There was so much blood. So, so much blood. Fawn couldn't even tell where it was coming from anymore.

Her voice was gone. The Death-Eaters had given up on trying to force out information because of it. They still kept her though. They still thought one day she'd crack. Fawn couldn't remember when her last meal had been. She couldn't remember much of anything.

Light spilled into the darkness.

"Rise and shine, Sunshine," the rough, gravelly voice of the Death-Eater, Fawn now recognized as Antonin Dolohov, spoke.

Her body was dragged out into the large ballroom where the daily interrogation and torture would commence. Fawn was too weak to stand now, and far too weak to even think about fighting against the cruelty.

She watched as Bellatrix's eyes lit up at the sight of her toy. The Dark Lord sat in the corner, smirking, not yet having exhausted his efforts to get the Mudblood to speak.

Fawn was shoved into the wall, a wand pressed to her throat once again. The vial of Veritaserum was forced past her lips, down her red, raw throat, into the depths of her stomach.

They were stupid; the Death-Eaters that was. They weren't aware that the more a person drank the truth potion, the stronger their immunity against it became. Even if Fawn could speak, the potion would have no effect on the lies she spewed to the Dark Lord's face. If she was able to, Fawn would have laughed.

Blood from earlier days had sunken into the cement floor, bits of hair and skin stuck with it. It was a reminder that Fawn was still alive, still fighting in some small way.

"Speak, bitch," Dolohov hissed.

The girl blinked at him.

"I said speak."

Her lips twitched but nothing spilled from within them.

"What's wrong with her?" growled Lucius.

"She's not talking."

"Yes, I can see that, Antonin."

"I can get her to speak!" Bella jumped from her seat, wand twirling in between her fingers.

Fawn's heart plummeted. Not the cruciatus curse again. She knew that much more and she'd lose all sense of sanity like the Longbottoms had. The fact that she had been able to hold on this long was a miracle in and of itself. Fawn had already lost her voice, her strength, her livelihood. Did they really have to strip her from her consciousness, the one thing that made her human, too?

Bella's heels clicked across the floor of what Fawn had since pieced together was the main room of twelve Grimmauld Place.

Yes, she was being held hostage in Grimmauld Place. It was a shock that the puzzle hadn't fit together sooner.