Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower's sons.
Like a reflex, your eyes shoot open as the first water droplet hits the window. You glance at the glow-in-the-dark arms of the clock on your nightstand. 2:41 it reads.
With your pillow under your arm, you paddle across the hallway, towards the end. You don't knock when you enter the bedroom and you can easily navigate around the furniture in the dark. Siding under the covers, you fluff up your pillow before pressing your face against Theo's back.
He hums, turning towards you and draping an arm over your middle. "What are you doing here?" His voice is low and drowsy.
You burrow yourself further into his embrace. "It's going to storm", is your simple answer. A sleepy laugh rumbles through his chest. It's the same answer you always give when you curl up next to him.
Because the truth is, despite being engaged to each other, you're not allowed to sleep in the same bed. They want little pure-blood Heirs of Slytherin running around, but not out of wedlock.
Nonetheless, the two of you entangle your limbs and sleep almost every night together.
And nobody says anything about it. They don't dare to. Somehow, you've instilled fear in the Dark Lord's followers by just existing. The one good thing about it is that they leave you alone.
"There's another meeting today." You tuck your hands under your face and look at the dark-haired boy next to you. "Wormtail was sent to kidnap someone today. I've heard their screams when walking around the Manor."
A shiver runs down your spine. Theo says nothing, he tugs you on top of him and wraps both his arms protectively around you. "We have to be careful. Of everything we do", he whispers, his voice wavering.
You say nothing, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. The two of you stay like this for hours until the sun shines through the windows and gives your face a golden glow.
Theo caresses your chin and cheek, tracing over the scar left behind by the Boy Who Lived. You turn your face away so he's no longer touching it. But Theo takes hold of your chin, forcing your face towards him. He tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them downcast.
"Listen... listen to me. Your pretty face and I are going to survive this. Do you understand me? And every scar, wound, or other injury, we're going to wear them with pride. Because we're survivors."
He gives you a look that tells you he's not messing around. A small smile blooms on your face, making Theo smile in return.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The mood at the table is tense. If it was not for the floating Hogwarts teacher, then is it for the fact that Snape is late and the Dark Lord is losing his patience. When the said man finally arrives, he takes place on the left side of the Dark Lord, his blank eyes meeting yours.
"You bring news, I trust."
"It will happen Saturday next at nightfall."
"I've heard differently, my Lord." Everybody's heads are turned to the other side. "Dawlish, the Auror let it slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month", Yaxley goes on, his hands clasped together. "The day before he turns seventeen."
Your eyes flicker to Theodore, who's between Yaxley and Nott Sr. Theo's eyes are focused on the blond man next to him.
"This is a false trail", interjects Snape, "The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter." Snape turns towards the Dark Lord, "those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."
A Death Eater pipes up. "Well, they've got that right haven't they?" A laugh rumbles through the room.
"What say you, Pius?"
The Imperiused man on the other side of the table focuses his glassy eyes to the best of his ability towards the Dark Lord. "One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear."
The Dark Lord lets out a chuckle. "Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, proven most useful, Pius." His attention flickers back to Snape. "Where will he be taken, the boy?"
You zone out. It's what you have noticed is most effective for keeping sane during all those meetings. You get pulled out of your trance for a moment as the kidnapped 'guest' in the cellar lets out a yell. But it's not until you feel the Dark Lord's hand trail over your shoulder that you pay attention again.
He stops next to Lucius, holding his hand out for him. "My Lord?", squeaks the blond man.
Voldemort mocks your uncle. He reaches his hand out, "I require your wand." Once he receives the wand, he snaps the ridiculous snake head off and throws it on the table.
He points the wand at the floating teacher, bringing her to a stop over the table. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined today by Miss Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts. Her speciality was Muggle Studies."
You look in fear as the Death Eaters around you laugh mockingly. you know Professor Burbage, very well in fact. Muggle Studies was one of the ways you defied your family's ways.
"It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles... are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them."
His speech falls on deaf ears. Your breathing has picked up as you look with big, scared eyes at your Professor. One of your most beloved professors. Her face is morphed in pain as her body is contorted in strange ways. Your bottom lip trembles as she locks eyes with you before moving on to Snape.
You can see her lips move, begging for her life, but the words don't register. With a quick green flash, her dead corpse falls on the table. Professor Burbuga's lifeless eyes stare at you, a tear rolling out of her eye.
"Nagini... dinner."
The snake slithers up the table, through your legs. Everybody pulls their hands away from the table as she makes her way towards the teacher. She opens her jaws and pounces upon the body, ripping her to shreds.
"Young mister Nott."
Your head snaps from the Dark Lord to the now pale-as-a-sheet Theo. He gives you a look before focussing on the man at the head of the table. "Y... yes, my Lord?"
The Dark Lord has a small sadistic smile on his face. "You are expected to join us, next Saturday in the capture of Harry Potter."
Theodore swallows. "Of course, my Lord. It will be an honour."
"Am I also to join?", you ask, finding your voice.
But the Dark Lord shakes his head. "No, my Heir. I have a far more important task for you."
