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T.O.R.N. by KayoChan

Format: Novel
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 8,236
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mild Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Horror/Dark, Romance, Action/Adventure
Characters: Snape, Tonks, Andromeda, Voldemort, Draco, Fred, George, Oliver, OC
Pairings: Other Pairing

First Published: 05/29/2011
Last Chapter: 10/02/2011
Last Updated: 10/02/2011

Summary:




"It's standardized dress for Death Eaters.  I think it's to scare people away.  Make us seem less human."

Oliver Wood had no idea what he was getting himself into, and he couldn't care less.

OW/OC
 

Credit for the banner goes to Deianeira@TDA


Chapter 3: The Task that Should have been Daunting

Chapter Three | The Task That Should Have Been Daunting

 

I really wasn't sure what had commanded me to wear such frivolous attire on such a chilly day. I supposed it was the superior ranking I carried on my shoulders. One thing I had to admit was that I looked damn right good. A black fur cloak was slung easily over my shoulders, clasped together with a pure silver broach at my neck. It was no surprise that the broach was in the shape of a snake and had green emeralds serving for eyes. I quite liked the jewelry, actually; it made me feel regal...like a true Slytherin. The cloak wasn't doing a very good job of hiding my other clothes, as it was thrown over my shoulder in such a manner. My silky black dress was a huge contrast to the thick material of the fur. The lace that trailed at the bottom of the cloth nipped around my knees in the most delicate of ways. The only thing that prevented it from actually touching my skin was the leather that made up my high boots, which traveled all the way up my shins and stopped only when they had reached the bottom of my knees.

I seemed the epitome of style today, and knew I had to look it. My dark eyes were focused solely on the door that I walked toward, narrowed and frozen and hardly showing any of the green I knew they possessed. The two Death Eaters that followed me kept a few steps behind, showing everyone that I was, in fact, more important than them. I recognized a few people on my way into the Ministry. I spotted Shacklebolt at the doors, and Arthur in the lobby, but thankfully there was no one else to make my entrance a distraction.

"Come," I spat, glancing with angered eyes at the two men following me, "We're wasting precious time."

I floated into the elevator and the other two scurried in after me, watching as I languidly took hold of one of the railings. Not two seconds after I did, a familiar lurch made itself present and the contraption skidded upward.

Only a minute later, and after a jolted stop that sent the two men ramming into me, we had reached our destination.

"Get off of me, you fools," I raged, dusting myself off. After picking the last non-existent piece of dust from my fur-clad shoulder and sending each man a malevolent glare, I lightly stepped from the compartment and began walking through a familiar hallway. I had been down this way before, many times. Before I could remember, my aunts had brought me here time and time again to show me the 'might and splendor of the wizarding world'. Of course, they had gone on to explain how much better it would be if Mudbloods weren't a part of it...

I didn't stop until I had reached the thick door that signaled the end of my companions journey. I glanced back at them, face contorting in a scowl, and ordered, "Stay here. I'll be out in a moment."

Long fingers clutching the edges of my fur cloak in a zealous grasp, I let myself into the room in which the new Minister would be sitting.

 




The sound of the reinforced door snapping shut indicated my presence to the others in the room. Eyes suddenly began sizing me up, voices stopped, and a big, burly man made his way toward me. I hardly had any time to look around before my hand was suddenly being captured and shaken so hard I thought it was going to fall off.

"Mr. Aldry, contain yourself," came a voice I immediately wished away. The elder Malfoy was standing a few feet away, sneer upon his face as he watched the ghastly display, "Surely you have met Miss Black before...?"

It was indeed true, though I hated to be reminded of it. Mr. Aldry was a man who had worked for the previous Minister. He was a secretary of sorts, and I'd had the unfortunate first meeting with him a few months before, when the Ministry was just beginning to fall. I don't think he realized just who I was...

I took my hand back and looked at him as though he were the plague. Lip curling distastefully, I managed to spit, "Mr. Aldry. I trust you have a good reason for interrupting my morning?"

His face had turned surprised – flummoxed, even – and he stammered out a halfhearted answer that I pointedly ignored. I continued to the desk in the center of the room and looked down at the figure of Pius Thicknesse, who occupied the plushy leather seat opposite me.

To him, I kindly gave my hand and he leaned forward to politely shake it. There was a dazed look in his eyes, and the effects of the Imperius curse were blatantly obvious to me. I realized that Malfoy was probably the one controlling him at the moment, and wondered why the Dark Lord had given him such an important task...

"It's very nice to meet you, Minister," I claimed, withdrawing my hand and clasping it once again around the edges of my fur cloak, "I trust you'll have a good stay here at the improved Ministry," at this, I let out a deadly smirk, pulling at the pools of Slytherin green in my eyes.

After sending Lucius a glance, which he returned, I bustled from the room as quickly as I had come and snapped my fingers at the lounging men who waited outside.

"You two truly are unnecessary. Hurry up, then, I have one more thing to do," and they clamored up behind me as I stepped into the elevator once again.

After dropping from such an unsightly high point, I felt as though my stomach would forever be lodged in my chest. When we at last stepped out from the compartment, I found myself standing in the Department of Mysteries, and it was really no wonder we had endured such a long fall.

Yaxley would be here somewhere, and so I began walking toward the only door I could currently see. That changed, of course, once I had reached a cross section, because then two more doors were detected. I had never been in this Department. Two or so years ago, Death Eaters had been gathered here to kill Harry Potter and Sirius Black, but unfortunately I was not trusted enough to go on said mission. It would have been nice to see my second cousin once more before he died...

"Black!"

That gravely voice could not have been mistaken. I turned party to see Yaxley himself walking toward me, alone. His robes fluttered out from behind him and in the darkness of the halls, made him look quite daunting. I had a feeling my uneasiness didn't come from his appearance, though, but rather from the parchment he was holding in his hands.

Once he was close enough, he shoved it into my hands and grumbled, "He wants you to meet them now, so you'd better leave."

For the life of me, I couldn't understand who I had to meet. After watching Yaxley wordlessly turn around and begin walking back toward the shut door, I also turned. It was easier going up this time, and while in the elevator, I had a distraction from the uneven jolts.

The two thugs behind me were speaking softly to each other about something I cared nothing for, so I quickly tore open the seal and unrolled the parchment. My heart leapt into my throat as I caught sight of the spidery handwriting. I wasted no time reading...and was irate by the time I had finished.

How dare he give me such an inconsequential task? With narrowed, furious eyes, I angrily jammed a finger into a button and about a minute later the compartment had, once again, stopped. The doors opened to a Department I had never been to, nor had I any intention of ever visiting in all my life: the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

 




I decided I hated Quidditch pitches. If there was a place any more miserable, I knew not. All I knew was that my expensive black leather stiletto heels were completely ruined. I wouldn't have minded so much if I had been alone. As it were, the two blokes from before were now gone...only to be replaced by Yaxley himself. His presence was really starting to get under my skin. Dolohov was the only other Death Eater, and had a similar job as I did – the same, in fact. We seemed both to be out of favor with the Dark Lord. I supposed Dolohov was being shorted because of his failure to capture the Golden Trio months prior.

Keeping up my appearances as, well, a Death Eater, I quickly formed the trademark scowl and sped up toward the edge of the pitch, eyes latched fiercely to the flying figures above. Stupid, ruddy Quidditch players...

The other man who walked beside us was the manager whom I met with yesterday. He was a shorter man who sort of reminded me of Arthur Weasley, with a short tuft of graying hair upon his balding head. He didn't seem very important, but I decided not to judge – which surprised me, even when I was secretly rooting for the good side – and exchanged a glance with Yaxley as we followed his stumbling figure nearer and nearer to the players. The stubby man was certainly trying to impress us...or at least not wet himself in his obvious horror.

"Oi! What's going on here?" came a voice from above. One of the disgusting players landed and eyed us. He had black hair, all shifted to one side in a windblown mess. His azure robes were shuffled around his body, which was sweaty and unkempt due to the practice they were currently undergoing. I watched with haughty eyes as his own slid over each of our figures, finally settling on his manager's.

"Ahem...er...well, this is...I mean to say that –" but apparently the manager really had no idea what he was going to say, so Yaxley kindly stepped in for him, unrolling the bit of parchment that had been stuffed into his signature black robes.

His voice, which sent shivers of disgust down my spine, did the work of explaining the situation well enough. Dolohov and I stood behind him a bit, listening and watching as the entire team gathered around.

"Settle down, children," Yaxley spat, brow ruffled in his ever angered mood, "This is a letter from the new Minister of Magic. We of the Ministry have been ordered to patrol each practice and game of every category of magical sport, and of every team. And Puddlemere United is not exempt from our full scale investigation," he ended, further mocking the team as he sneered out their title.

The black haired man from before seemed to have something to say about this mess. He narrowed his eyes, "What, pray tell, are you investigating?"

I smirked, lips drawing over my pale face in a sneer that would have made my dear old father proud, "That is private Ministry information. "

Dolohov smirked as well, putting a hand on my shoulder as though proud of my exaggerated show of importance.

I let my eyes linger on the black haired fiend – I was sure he thought the same about me in that moment – before turning away and sending a glare toward Yaxley.

"Don't you have matters you should be tending to...?" I questioned, voice rough with an annoyance that I most clearly felt in his presence.

He glowered at me and shoved the parchment into my arms, "Watch your tongue, Black. I could inform the Dark Lord of your bitterness, and where would you be then? Wallowing with the rest of your silly family..."

I let out a peal of laughter, though it did not reach my eyes, "I'd hardly be calling my family silly. We are a noble breed; a term you cannot even comprehend."

But my family was silly. So silly and shallow and not noble or well bred at all. My father had left me because, for God's sake, Voldemort was more important than his own family. My aunts were positively in love with said evil man. The only people I was at all proud of was my half sister and my mother...

I earned another dark glare before Yaxley disapparated in a whirl of black robes. Once he was gone, I turned my scowling face to Dolohov, "Well go on, then. You were assigned the Falmouth Falcons, lucky bastard. Say hello to Flint for me, hmm?"

With that, I pushed the ruddy piece of parchment into his hands and he turned and disapparated.

"Orders are orders, and all that," I said after he was gone, turning back to the grim faces of the Quidditch players, "I'll just sit over there," and jabbed a thumb to a secluded part of the bleachers. No one stopped me as I walked away.

 




I think the worst part of spending my day at a Quidditch pitch, muddy and nasty as it was, had to be the stares I kept receiving from the players. They were not stupid, for God's sake. They knew I was a Death Eater; they knew I was the bad guy; they knew they should stay away from me or else I could blast them to kingdom come. Not like it would or anything...I considered myself to be half a Death Eater. I definitely didn't have the state of mind to hex people for no reason...not now, anyway. Back when I was at school I would've...but it was different now.

"Erm...enjoying your stay, Miss Black?" the manager stuttered, edging closer to me but keeping his eyes firmly latched onto the practice game going on in the field. Actually, the players were just circling down, which meant practice was just ending, thank God.

Even with my rejuvenated sense of self, I scowled at him and ran a hand through my wildly curly locks, "No. I've other business I should be attending. Not waste my day at a ruddy Quidditch pitch..." I added a curse for good measure, and I think I got my point across to the poor manager.

He jumped a little and chuckled shakily, wringing his hands together in angst, "W-Well, will you b-be here tomorrow...?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and he let out a squeak of panic. A soft smirk played at my lips...I wondered what could possibly be so frightening about my character. Besides, of course, that I was a follower of the darkest wizard ever born.

"I'm afraid not," I answered, standing up and losing the smirk. I quickly dusted off my black robes and sent him a sideways glance, "Perhaps you'd like to introduce me to the team?"

His cheeks were now profusely colored red, and his eyes were shifting from me to the team and back to me again. I raised a brow flippantly and he managed to falter, "O-of c-c-course! Please f-follow me, M-Miss Black..."

He shuffled toward the pitch, hands working together faster than I'd ever seen, and stumbled to a halt before the black haired player. I figured he was probably the captain.

"Rey, Miss B-Black wanted to meet you a-all," the manager said quickly, and then turned to me to begin introducing us, "T-This is Davis Reynolds, Justin Fletcher, Peter Lowell, Oliver Wood, Sam Rockchester, Madeline Cowl, and Eugene Beckett. Everyone, this is Miss Black."

"Belladonna," I interrupted, trying my best to look bored whilst studying the faces of each person. The only appearance I had memorized was Reynolds, and that was because he seemed to have it in for me, "Figured we should be acquainted, at least, since I'll be here once a week for the next few months."

The manager spluttered. His eyes watered in shock and his face reddened again, "A...a few months...?"

My eyes narrowed, and I tightened the clasp of the silver broach holding my cloak together, "Unfortunately. Ministry business, and all that...though I think its because he's mad at me. Otherwise he'd make Malfoy do it. Rotten luck, really..."

I noticed the flinches on each of their faces, and took amusement in that. My trademark smirk was crawling up my face and I began walking around the group of players, eyeing each one maliciously and in complete contrast to the attitude I had just portrayed.

"You," I stopped before a blonde haired man. He was taller than me, but then again they all were, "You're Peter Lowell. Hufflepuff graduate, am I right? I think I remember you roaming the halls of Hogwarts back in the day..."

"Least he's not from Slytherin. Then he'd be a smarmy git just like you, right Black?"

I didn't react right away. I turned slowly until I locked eyes with the man who spoke. He had short brown hair that looked soft as anything and the prettiest brown eyes I'd ever seen. His comment didn't actually make me angry at all. In fact, I found myself completely drawn to the sound of his Scottish accent. I tilted my head curiously.

"Hmm...well, I suppose there's some truth to that. Slytherin house is known to be vainly narcissistic, isn't it?" I smirked to him and he scowled. I don't think he liked the fact that I blew off his insult. I stepped away from the group and shrugged, lips pulling down into a frown, "There's only been a few people who've ever gotten out of it alive..."

And with those mysterious words, I allowed myself one last smirk and disapparated. I had much to think about...and most of my thoughts revolved around a certain Scottish bloke.

 




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