Entitled

Chapter 133

He steps forward with a predatory hunger that terrifies you. The last of his dark green robes fall to the floor and you can tell he's more than prepared for what's about to take place. His icy cold hands push the robe off your shoulders letting it slip to the floor.

His piercing gaze looks you up and down with a chilling satisfaction. "You're so beautiful, Violet. The most beautiful," he hisses, his eyes eerily glowing with malice. "You're almost perfect."

Your eyes meet his, your voice steadies and you finally ask, "Almost?" You ask as if you're not satisfied with the answer, that you think you deserve more. You look at him defiantly, "I am perfect," you whisper.

A wicked smile spreads to his face as he sits on the edge of the bed, his wand right on the nightstand. His hand wraps around himself, show you how ready he is for this vile act. Its as if he has been waiting for this for some time, for your true submission. "Prove it," he challenges you.

Your movements become mechanical. What you are about to do has nothing to do with desire or affection. This is about duty, duty to yourself and others you care about, to ensure their safety no matter what. When he's finally done with you, there is an edge of satisfaction in his voice.

There is a horrifying gleam in his eye when it's over. "You're my good girl Violet. I knew you could do exactly what you're told," he grins. "You were perfect."

You start to get up and redress yourself with his permission. Whatever just happened has been pushed to the back of your mind for now. "Will I be allowed to live with Severus?" you ask softly, hoping for this one mercy.

Voldemort's voice is as cold as the stone walls of the manor as he responds, "Well, for now, you are to stay at the manor, and if everyone is on their best behavior, Severus can stay as well." His words hang heavy in the air, a thinly veiled threat underlying each one.

You feel a glimmer of hope at the possibility of being with Severus, even under such conditions. Mustering the courage, you ask, "Does that mean... can we still be close? Can we... be physical?"

He fixes you with a steely gaze, and the air around you seems to chill. "As long as you both remember it is a privilege," he states sharply. "And privileges can easily be taken away."

You nod quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I understand," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I will do my best." You finish dressing quickly, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the room and the heavy scrutiny of Voldemort's gaze.

As you leave the bedroom, a wave of shame washes over you, but you push it to the back of your mind, focusing on the need to find some semblance of normalcy. You make your way down the cold, echoing corridors to the drawing room, where Severus and the others are gathered. The room is a stark contrast to the darkness of the chambers you just left, filled with the soft light of the afternoon sun and the low murmur of conversation.

Upon seeing you, Poppy, who had been tending to the twins, approaches with Esmond and Iris. Your heart swells at the sight of them, a momentary relief from the turmoil inside you. She hands you both babies, who are fussing slightly, hungry and ready to be fed. You settle into an armchair, positioning each child comfortably in your arms. The warmth and innocent need of your twins anchor you, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

As you sit in the quiet room, nursing your child, you catch Severus's eye from across the space. His expression is guarded, the carefully crafted mask of a man who has learned to conceal his emotions well. But in his eyes, there's a depth of concern, a silent worry that speaks volumes, even without words. He's watching you, every subtle movement, every nuance, as if trying to understand what's happening beneath the surface.