❝And I want your infinity?❞
❝Even if you don't,
it's yours to have.
My infinity belongs to you.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.❞
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Angelica Lestrange was no stranger to dabbling with darkness. She was brought up to believe t...
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˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩
"Angelica..." came the coldest hiss she'd ever heard.
She jerked upright in shock and squinted immediately as a blinding white light filled her sight. She blinked quickly, trying her best to adjust to the blinding white around her and to make sense of where she was.
A second hiss followed as she made out the long, cloaked figure standing before her.
"My Lord?"
Within seconds, her surroundings began to take form. A glance around told her that she stood in an empty room. The source of that brilliant white light, clearly gone. And before her eyes stood The Dark Lord looking so pale that he may have camouflaged into that whiteness from before.
Her hands instinctively moved for her wand, only for her to realise that it wasn't on her person. Angelica looked down and saw that she was wearing her nightdress from when she had gotten into bed.
"Where am I?" she questioned.
A small prickly laugh filled the room before his articulate voice spoke. "Have you not figured it out yet? Perhaps you are not as smart as I hoped you were."
She frowned, wondering if this was all part of her imagination. Maybe, she was just having a nightmare. She moved her hand to her thigh and pinched herself, her fear growing when she felt the pain.
"Is—is this a dream?" she asked, in confusion.
"Not quite."
"You're in my mind, aren't you?" she asked, with a tone of panic.
"Took you long enough," he lilted.
She looked up at him with a deep frown, wondering how it was possible for someone to look so unreal and yet manage to cause such widespread agony and fear.
The Dark Lord waited for her to shudder; to look away. He waited for that apology for casting her gaze at him.
None of it came.
"Kneel before me!"
Angelica felt her knees buckle underneath her involuntarily. She had no control over the bowing of her head into that position of inferiority.
A sharp, pointy object slid down her face and pushed her chin up, making her realise his nail was poking into her neck. She kept her gaze steady, willing herself not to let her discomfort show.
"Have you not wondered why you have been struggling to find sleep?"
She gulped hard. "I have."
That was why she wanted to see the thestrals. She wondered if perhaps seeing them would give her a reason as to why she could see them. As to why she hadn't felt at ease in weeks. At least, not since she'd been marked with the mark of the man in front of her.
