Status: complete. c:
Morsmordre, Amor
p r e f a c e
The streets were dark, pitch black almost, and the few lamps that glowed on the sides flickered as if debating to hide from the oncoming storm. There was a foul taste in the air. There had been for months, now.
People were going missing, getting murdered in their homes. Aurors were getting taken down one by one. Shops were put out of business entirely, getting raided and threatened. It was a dark time, and it was all due to the Dark Lord rising.
Four of his servants stalked the streets, one giddy, one cold, one bored, and one impossibly bitter. Revenge was being sought this quiet night, and it was all going to take place in the last house on the block.
Rodolphus Lestrange kicked the door in, not even bothering to try the lock. There was a sudden commotion upstairs, hushed whispers followed by a frantic scream: "Mum, take Neville!"
The four Death Eaters stood at the foot of the stairs, wands raised, and they waited for the Auror and his wife to show themselves. Hexes were thrown before they did, of course, but the Lestrange brothers grew tired quickly and simply stalked up the stairs, disarming the witch and wizard and dragging them down to the first story.
Both were thrown into the living room, and Bartemius Crouch, Jr. looked on them with wide eyes for the first time since that night, the night he lost her. Rabastan had a tight grip in Alice Longbottom's hair, the captive's wand in his hand while her husband was being held at the point of his own. They looked at the Death Eaters defiantly, chins up, jaws set.
Bartemius licked his upper lip, sweat gathering at his hairline as a glimpse of pastel pink flashed in his mind's eye. His arms trembled, even as he raised his wand. He could still see her dazed smile and clear green eyes, still feel her pale flesh beneath him, and his wasted heart ached fiercely in her absence.
The hostage couple could see the deranged look in his glistening, brown eyes from where they knelt on the floor, and both swallowed hard. Bellatrix cackled madly, joining Bartemius and aiming her wand at the lady on the floor.
"This," the unstable man huffed out, hand shaking furiously as he pointed his wand at them. "This is for her, for my Nona. Crucio!"
People were going missing, getting murdered in their homes. Aurors were getting taken down one by one. Shops were put out of business entirely, getting raided and threatened. It was a dark time, and it was all due to the Dark Lord rising.
Four of his servants stalked the streets, one giddy, one cold, one bored, and one impossibly bitter. Revenge was being sought this quiet night, and it was all going to take place in the last house on the block.
Rodolphus Lestrange kicked the door in, not even bothering to try the lock. There was a sudden commotion upstairs, hushed whispers followed by a frantic scream: "Mum, take Neville!"
The four Death Eaters stood at the foot of the stairs, wands raised, and they waited for the Auror and his wife to show themselves. Hexes were thrown before they did, of course, but the Lestrange brothers grew tired quickly and simply stalked up the stairs, disarming the witch and wizard and dragging them down to the first story.
Both were thrown into the living room, and Bartemius Crouch, Jr. looked on them with wide eyes for the first time since that night, the night he lost her. Rabastan had a tight grip in Alice Longbottom's hair, the captive's wand in his hand while her husband was being held at the point of his own. They looked at the Death Eaters defiantly, chins up, jaws set.
Bartemius licked his upper lip, sweat gathering at his hairline as a glimpse of pastel pink flashed in his mind's eye. His arms trembled, even as he raised his wand. He could still see her dazed smile and clear green eyes, still feel her pale flesh beneath him, and his wasted heart ached fiercely in her absence.
The hostage couple could see the deranged look in his glistening, brown eyes from where they knelt on the floor, and both swallowed hard. Bellatrix cackled madly, joining Bartemius and aiming her wand at the lady on the floor.
"This," the unstable man huffed out, hand shaking furiously as he pointed his wand at them. "This is for her, for my Nona. Crucio!"