Song of the Nightingale, 3/8. NC-17.
Title: Song of the Nightingale
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for mentions of violence and eventually graphic sex. (That will be marked when I get there.) Read the Warnings, people!
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint.
Disclaimer: They originally belonged to JKR. I nicked her toys without permission. I sincerely doubt she'd like what I'm doing with them anyway.
Spoilers/Warnings: This is post-DH (minus the Epilogue of Doom) AU. As in, somehow during the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort didn't die. I start off with a bang, sometimes vaguely or not so vaguely referencing past physical and sexual violence. This is not a happy place to be in, and it's dark as all hell. Fits the "rape recovery" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Wizarding World was transformed into the world of his vision. Six years later, Potions Master Marcus Flint purchased a group of Mudbloods for experimentation. This was not supposed to be a difficult occurrence.
Prior chapters:
One - Bought And Sold
Two - Moving Through Nightmares
If Adrian felt bad about ripping open Katie's back with his spell, he gave no indication during his diagnostic spells. Katie was given the salves twice a day for a week, just to be sure that the scars healed over properly. She wasn't always given the blue potion; it seemed to depend on how irritated Marcus was with Katie's fearful behavior. For at least a week after that, Katie went through the motions of the housekeeping job she had been assigned. It was sometimes easy to get lost in the work, but at other times she found herself remembering being locked in a cell in Nott's basement or looking at the outbuilding and wondering what was happening to the remaining muggleborn people that Marcus was using to test his potions.
"Wear the sleeveless robe tonight after dinner," Marcus said when Katie brought him his lunch. He didn't say anything when her hand shook slightly as she set out his tray, and she left after nodding at him.
Her fear was getting the better of her; Marcus had said he was nothing like Nott, that he only intended to test potions on her. But what if?
Marcus only nodded at the exam table when Katie hesitantly came down the steps into the basement. Adrian was frowning over a set of notes in a folder, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Marcus was adjusting a small flame beneath a beaker on a stand. They completely and utterly ignored her fear and didn't seem to care about her presence one way or another. She got onto the exam table and laid down on her stomach, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. She kept her eyes open, though. She wasn't going to be able to see much, but it was better to have some indication if things were going to change in their treatment of her.
"It really shouldn't have had that much effect," Adrian said finally. "I know what your notes say, but really..."
"I can do simple diagnostics well enough by now." Marcus' tone brooked no argument. He had an assortment of jars on his desk. "We'll try a number of these variants I've made. I'll try them all tonight. I don't want to lose two weeks every time I do a field test because her back is cut open again by that spell."
Adrian frowned at his cousin. "Marcus..."
"Supposed to or not, it happened. I'd prefer if it didn't happen again."
Adrian grunted, and moved out of Katie's line of vision. He tugged at the buttons at her back. "This is new."
"She didn't appreciate my tearing the thing the other day," Marcus said, bringing the jars over to the exam table. "This does make things easier."
"Praising a mudblood?" Adrian taunted. "Will wonders never cease?"
Marcus practically growled, and pushed Adrian's hands away from Katie's back. He slathered on the different salves in thick stripes across her back, and she could feel the differences in consistency between each salve. Most made her skin feel cool and numb as well. She tucked her face into the crook of her arm as she heard Adrian move backward and away from the table. "You should tilt the damn table. That makes it easier to cast," he complained.
"Just cast the damn spell. You'd have to do it this way at Mungo's. Just get it over with."
Adrian cast the spell, and to Katie's relief she didn't feel the burning, stinging pain as she had two weeks before. She picked her head up slightly and turned to see their expressions. Adrian was thoughtful, and Marcus had a single eyebrow raised. "You've been tinkering after all," Marcus mused. "It worked much better this time."
"The scar tissue must have been too thin," Adrian agreed. "That's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, I know how to handle scars."
Marcus took a few damp cloths to clear the salve remains from Katie's back. "Interesting. There's also the arms and chest, you know. Think you can vary the strength of your spells?"
Adrian ran his finger along Katie's paraspinal muscles. She clenched her teeth to keep from recoiling at his touch. "It shouldn't be too hard, now that I know what works."
"Sounds good. Malfoy's coming by tomorrow with his report. Did you want to sit in on it?"
"What do I care about her background now? It would've been helpful in the first few days. At this point, I've done enough daily checks to have a good idea of baseline functioning." Adrian shrugged. "You can give me the short version if you like."
Katie was allowed to return upstairs after that, and she wondered what Malfoy would have to report about her. She wasn't sure exactly where or when this meeting would take place, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be around anyway.
The meeting was the next day in Marcus' office, spelled shut and silenced for confidentiality. Draco arrived via floo directly into the office and shook off his cloak. "Sorry about how long it took, mate. They wanted to check my Interpol credentials a few times in the beginning, and then I was called to investigate a series of murders in Ireland."
"What the bloody hell for? You don't do ordinary cases."
"Who said this was ordinary?" Draco asked, lofting an eyebrow at Marcus. He settled down across the desk and handed over a thick folder. "Here. This is Katie Bell's file. It includes all of the official stories, as well as my own investigation and theories."
Marcus set it down on his desk. "What do you mean, theories?"
Draco looked at the file with an almost disappointed air. "Someone could have fucked up. She might not be a muggleborn at all."
"What?"
Draco waited for Marcus to start paging through his work, to see if he would find the dots and draw the same connecting lines that he had. Katie Bell had been victimized a few times by Death Eaters, himself included. That had been an accident that Draco still deeply regretted. Things were not entirely what they seemed in the Wizarding World, but he wasn't ready to turn everything upside down just yet.
For his part, Marcus read quickly but thoroughly. Some snippets about her home life before she was sent the Hogwarts letter at eleven. Her Hogwarts record, her OWLS and NEWTS, her medical record, her Quidditch scores, known associates until her disappearance following the Battle at Hogwarts. Marcus slowed down and read with more interest the compilation of reports about Katie's abduction a year ago. The muggle forensics team had gone over the flat with a fine toothed comb. The bodies of her older brother and mother were there, brutally raped and tortured. Katie had been missing, but blood stains, hair and a torn part of a shirt were clues that she had not escaped unscathed. The muggle police had looked for any sign linking Katie's apparent kidnapping to any of their known felons, but had come up empty. Marcus could fill in the rest with what he knew of Nott's treatment of her. Draco had a few things down for that, and Marcus had to admire the succinct way Draco described the girl's torture.
Marcus finally looked up. "I don't see it."
"I noticed something about her birth date," Draco offered, prodding him along.
"November 1979," Marcus read aloud, flipping to the front of the file. "So?"
"It was before the end of the first war between the Order and our Lord," Draco said patiently. "Doesn't that get you wondering how a muggleborn could possibly have magic?"
Marcus was about to open his mouth and snarl "Get to the fucking point already" when he suddenly saw Draco's point. He looked back over the snippets of Katie Bell's home life. He had glossed over it before, thinking it irrelevant. Her biological father according to her birth certificate and all public muggle records was Edward Bell, who divorced Katie's mother when she was four months pregnant. Katie's mother didn't contest the divorce, didn't get any financial support and moved away from the town she had lived in all her life with her son Wesley. Then she gave birth to Katie.
Marcus looked up at Draco, tapping the file impatiently. "All right. I think I see what you're getting at. Fucking needle in a fucking haystack, if you ask me."
"I always find the needles," Draco replied with a grin. "But you see where I was going with that? I had to be certain before I brought you the file."
"Perfectionistic bastard," Marcus agreed. "So? What have you got?"
"I cross referenced all of the Death Eater raids and excursions between February and April 1979. Trust me, it was a lot of records to comb through."
Marcus frowned. "There were records? Whatever for?"
"Of course there were records. There are always records. That's what Travers is for. He's the record keeper." Draco leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh. "All records, good or ill. Trust me on that one, too. Not everyone gets to see them."
"Cut to the chase, Malfoy."
"Nott and Lestrange were heading the raids on the little muggle village that the Bells were living in. And nine months later, little Katie Bell is born."
If Marcus had eaten anything yet, he would have been ill. "Nott?"
"Small world, isn't it?" Draco agreed with a sharp nod. "Listen, it's up to you what to do with all of that," he said, indicating the folder of information. "This can die here, and it's simply speculation. She's registered as a muggleborn, and that's all she's known as. If you change her status, that would involve getting either man to accept her as his daughter, processing the paperwork and setting things to rights for her in the Registry. I've included that in the back of that folder if you wanted to do that." He watched Marcus' stunned expression. "I know how you feel about blood status, Marcus," Draco said quietly. "I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't tell you the truth."
"I've already gotten Nott written up for his shoddy practices. He'll never admit to fucking his own daughter and torturing her."
Draco didn't wince at Marcus' blunt tone. He was used to that and worse by now. "I'm not telling you what to do with it, Marcus. You're a friend, and I trust that you'll do what's right for your situation. You don't need it spoon fed."
But it practically was, wasn't it? Nott had a son and would never want it known that he had done horrible things to his daughter and sold her as a common muggleborn harlot.
Lestrange, on the other hand, had no children. After Bellatrix's death, he had never remarried. He was just a hair too crazed for most Pureblood mamas to want to sink their matchmaking hooks into him, so it was exceedingly unlikely that he would ever have issue. His estates would revert to the Ministry and to Voldemort. Centuries of Lestrange lands and properties, gone and never to be returned. For a man as deeply attached to his family lines as Lestrange was, it had to be a bitter realization. His wife had been more dedicated to Voldemort than to him, and now everything he had was going to go to the Dark Lord.
Marcus nodded and locked the folder in a drawer. "Thank you. I've a lot to think about."
Both men rose and shook hands over the desk. "I wish I had better news for you," Draco told him honestly. "At least there was nothing like this in any of the other purchases."
"That's good at least." He hesitated a fraction. "Your children are doing well?"
"Yes, and so is their mother," Draco said with a smile. "You can speak to her about my affairs when I'm out of the country, you know. She's well aware of what I do and what's going on. She could have gone over this with just as well as I have."
Marcus shrugged. "A family of blood traitors like that... I know you're above that kind of corruption, but not many men are. I don't know if the risk is worth the children you've got."
"Ginny and I have a history," Draco replied easily. He was used to the question, and it was not the first time this topic had come up. "She also has a history with our Lord. And if anyone still questions her, she still carries my mark."
"Everyone knows she's faithful to you," Marcus acknowledged. "But they don't trust her not to indoctrinate your children or try to plot against our Lord."
"Underneath that brash Gryffindor exterior, she's quite practical," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm technically still single, but no one's made any move to strike up an alliance."
"Because they know you won't touch her while you've got Ginevra." Marcus laughed and shook his head. "No woman is that stupid. I can't imagine being tied down at this point, but I suppose it's inevitable."
"For someone supposedly on the market, you've been hiding in your lab," Draco pointed out. "My mother thinks you'll never get married at this point."
"She should be occupied with grandbabies, not society marriages. Or lack thereof," he said with a wry smile.
"Mum thinks everyone is happier coupled off. Rather old fashioned of her, really. I tried telling her that you were in love with your potions, but she didn't buy that one for an instant."
"Thanks, mate. But the social whirl doesn't appeal. It's nothing but bullshit and lying about things that aren't even important to get just a kiss on the back of the hand. What a sodding waste."
Draco laughed. "Not everyone thinks it's appropriate to have a shag in the back gardens and then pluck the weeds to use as potions ingredients."
Marcus smiled ruefully at Draco. "So they're still talking about that one?"
"Nothing to replace it with," Draco pointed out. "But you've been hiding out in your labs over the past two and a half years. Elora would want you to get married." He held up his hands at Marcus' glower. "I miss her, too, mate," Draco said quietly. "She was good with Ginny and my Mum and didn't let you be such a miserable bastard. She'd be upset with how things have gotten for you. Though, the house looks better than that last time I was here. Have you actually started taking care of it again? That's a good sign."
"Bell does housekeeping duty when I'm not testing salves on her."
Draco nodded slowly. "Worth keeping, then. Anyway, you and Adrian are welcome at the Manor. He's here or at Mungo's and doesn't see anyone but you and Marinda Gatling. Maybe Vaisey, if you believe the rumors." He shrugged. "Just don't drop out of sight completely, will you?"
"I'll think about it," Marcus said, taking down the protective wards on his office. That effectively ended the conversation. "Thanks for the dossier. I'll go over it in more detail later. I have some thinking to do."
Draco nodded again and showed himself out. Marcus certainly did have a lot to think about, and Draco wasn't sure what he would decide to do. They had been closer once, but Marcus' young bride Elora Montague had died of a particularly vicious strain of griffin flu that she hadn't been treated for. By the time anyone realized what was happening with her, she was already dead. The Flint home was placed under quarantine for a full month, and Marcus hadn't been allowed to attend the funeral. Everyone knew he had blamed himself for Elora's death, as he had been working with various flu strains in his lab. If he washed up a bit better, used a different kind of rune in the house protections...
Sometimes things just didn't make sense. The only thing that did was potions, and Marcus threw himself into his work. He was so focused that it was easy to forget that he hadn't always been such a surly bastard, that once he had almost been sociable. Elora hadn't been some kind of society butterfly, but she had drawn him out into the right parties and helped him secure benefactors and funding for his research. Without her, he was left with whatever grants he had already applied for.
Draco apparated home. His friend would sort himself out eventually. He couldn't grieve forever.
***
"I believe we may be of some help to each other," Marcus began, looking at Rodolphus Lestrange over his glass of brandy.
The older man was reed-thin, with streaks of white shot through his dark hair. He had brown eyes and sharp, aquiline features. Marcus had a hard time seeing anything of Katie in his face, but she seemed to have taken after her mother's features. "And what is that?"
"I seem to have acquired a girl that may be your daughter," Marcus said, cutting right to the chase. He didn't enjoy drawn out cat and mouse games. He liked to dive right in and not deal with bullshit. It was another reason to avoid society balls and bureaucratic nonsense at St. Mungo's and work out of his own lab.
Lestrange blinked slowly. "Indeed?" he asked after a moment. "And how, pray tell, did you figure this out?"
Marcus slid a photograph across Lestrange's desk. "As you know, I do experiments with potions, salves, creams, that sort of thing. My cousin and I have done this for years, and I purchase subjects from Ruisart Nott."
"Greedy bastard," Lestrange said, leaning back in his chair to observe Marcus. "Not part of my current set of friends, but then, most of that lot are dead now."
Dipping his head slightly in a gesture of respect, Marcus continued. "One of them is this girl," he said, pointing to the photograph. "Katherine Elizabeth Bell, listed as a muggleborn who had graduated from Hogwarts in 1997. I have all of my test subjects researched by Draco Malfoy. I can't trust them not to lie about their medical history or background to destroy my work."
Lestrange picked up the muggle photograph of Katie and traced the lines of her face with a fingernail. "Yes. They are quite angry at being rounded up and herded like cattle." He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile at all. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Malfoy told me that nine months prior to her birth, you and Nott raped her mother."
He put the photo down on his desk. "Really?" He tapped his chin. "My nephew is a very competent investigator. And he's one of the few with access to Travers' files. It could very well be, if he says so."
Marcus took his calm demeanor as merely a thin veneer of normalcy. He was a cruel man and crazed in some ways. "There's no way for me to tell for certain, of course. But if she's a Halfblood and not a mudblood, I've been breaking the law. You see my concern."
Lestrange merely leveled a laserlike gaze at Marcus. "Why should I care? If she's considered a mudblood bitch, you could kill her and be done with it. No one else cares about those vile upstart pieces of trash." His voice was harsh, and Marcus remembered the stories about how a mudblood had taunted Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts.
"She might be your daughter."
"As you've said. She might be Nott's daughter, as well." Lestrange smiled at Marcus, but it was vicious and full of teeth. It was rather like a shark's smile, right before it bit off a limb. "But I'm the safer bet, aren't I?"
"Nott won't admit to fucking his virginal daughter and torturing her. It's generally frowned upon," Marcus replied evenly, only a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
"Oh, yes. Society. That travesty." Lestrange laughed. "Once they kowtowed to Lestranges. Once we owned all of that highbrow lot. But a few too many years in Azkaban, and suddenly you're not loved anymore."
Marcus indicated the photograph again. "Whoever her parentage, Nott did quite a lot of damage. It's led me to a few avenues of research I wouldn't have gone down otherwise. Namely, scar removal and organ regeneration."
"Organ regeneration?"
"Like Skelegro, but for whole organs. That's much trickier."
"What did he remove?"
"A few things, really, but I believe his target was her uterus."
Lestrange smiled that sharp, uncomfortable smile. "Ruisart was a naughty boy, wasn't he?"
"I have a detailed physical exam that my cousin did at the time of our acquisition. It was enough to get his license as a dealer revoked."
The smile froze in place on Lestrange's face. "It was? It was that bad?"
"Yes. He wouldn't have gotten into as much trouble if he simply kept her for himself rather than sell her off in a lot with other test subjects. Her condition was so degraded I had to find a separate room for her to recover from the wounds. My contract had called for five healthy mudbloods of mixed ages and gender, to serve as a cross section of the population. Some minor scrapes or bruises are to be expected. Extensive scarring, organ removal, infection and trauma aren't part of my contract."
"Well, perhaps for certain... collectors." Lestrange looked down at the photograph. "She was a pretty girl before."
"I've been fixing her. Physically, at least." Marcus swirled the brandy in his glass. "The scar removal techniques are almost perfected. I'm having trouble with some of the stubborn burns on her arm, but they were deep enough to char muscle." Lestrange looked up sharply from the photograph in his hands. "I'm almost ready to try the organ repair potions."
"Growing back a womb? How very special for you."
"It will need to be tested, of course," Marcus said evenly. He had this conversation with Adrian just that morning, and his cousin had shouted that he had gone out of his mind. Adrian didn't appreciate just how little Marcus cared for society, and Adrian couldn't fathom why Marcus would have to conduct experiments to this degree of accuracy.
But Lestrange made the connection quickly, and burst out laughing. "And now we get to how you benefit from this."
"You get a daughter. An heir for your family name, someone that would be tied to you. I get someone of pure enough blood to produce heirs."
"Have you fucked her yet?"
Marcus looked insulted and vaguely disgusted. "I don't use slaves that way."
"Your lot is a bit more... reserved, shall we say? Sometimes it's amusing. It's sport. It's muggle-baiting. It's getting a fuck because your wife is a cold bitch that would rather hang off the Dark Lord's robes than do her duty to have children." Lestrange's face was twisted up in anger, though Marcus knew it wasn't directed at him. "Make no mistake, we know just how diseased and spoiled muggles are, but they have their uses. No need to get so high and mighty."
"It's not my taste," Marcus replied with a shrug. "I don't appreciate the assumption I'm like Ruisart Nott."
Lestrange laughed, an unpleasant but not angry sound. His mercurial moods were difficult to navigate, but Marcus kept his temper in check. If Lestrange didn't choose to accept Katie as his bastard offspring, there was no point in even attempting to reconstruct her internal organs. He would never touch her if she was muggleborn.
"I'll need to see her, of course. I don't remember every woman I've raped, but maybe if I see her I'll be able to see if she's mine." Lestrange grinned at Marcus. "And if she's mine, I'll give her to you as a brood mare. Fair trade for finding her for me." His eyes narrowed to slits. "And of course I'll need to take the matter up with Nott. He was supposed to dispose of our playthings when we were done. He did a sloppy job, and I'll have to clean up his mess again."
Marcus nodded, keeping his mouth shut. "When do you want to see her?"
The flash of teeth in Lestrange's smile set Marcus' spine on edge. "Now is good."
***
Katie's nightmares were full of hands reaching for her. She woke with a gasp, and headed straight for the attic as soon as she woke up. She tucked herself into the eaves, right next to the window. She held herself tightly to keep from shaking, and simply looked out over the grounds around the Flint house. Summer was starting to fade into autumn, and the leaves were already starting to turn.
Since that first successful attempt at healing the scars on her back, Marcus had Adrian work on her arms. The sleeveless robe worked well enough for that, and it seemed strange to look at her arms in the bath and not see the thick whip scars any longer. The burn marks were proving to be more resistant to Adrian's spells, and changing the consistency of the salves or creams beneath the spell hadn't made too much of a difference. The burn marks remained, though Katie thought that the skin seemed less angry-looking after their treatments.
Katie uncurled herself and pulled the sleeves back on the drab gray robes. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the clear skin there. The scars had been there for nearly a year now, and she almost felt as if they were a badge of pride. For all that Ruisart Nott had done to her, she hadn't died. For all that she was still miserable and couldn't think about the trauma, she survived. She was a survivor, and being the test subject for Marcus and Adrian's mad experiments was nothing in comparison. It didn't stop her from being afraid in the meantime, but deep down, she knew that she had lived through the worst part already.
The skin at her wrist was soft and matched the skin at the back of her hand. It was as if she had never been scarred at all. The physical reminder of her past terror was gone now. It only existed in nightmares and flashbacks and startling at sudden movements or sounds. It existed in the burn marks on her upper arms that refused to go away.
The attic beams began to creak in that way they did just before dawn. Katie uncurled herself the rest of the way and pulled her sleeve down. She had a long day ahead of her. They were all long days, full of repetitive and dull housework and the occasional field test.
But on this day, it was different.
There was a tall, thin man with sharp features entering the parlor where she was dusting the mantel. He was dressed entirely in black, which only accentuated his pale skin and white streaks in his hair. His fingers were long and bony, clasped in front of him. The smile on his face was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only served to make Katie's spine crawl and her breath to catching in her throat. She tried to tamp down on her panic, but that gaze on her was hungry, and it reminded her too much of Nott's attentions. She edged backward, duster in hand. It was useless as a weapon, and she had no magic to use in her own defense.
Marcus stepped into the room. "That's her."
Katie was nearly choking on her panic when the thin man stepped forward and grasped her face with his bony fingers. He turned her face in various directions, as if appraising a jewel. When Nott had shared her, they simply seized her and did what they wanted. They didn't do this sort of appraisal, didn't make her feel so small and insignificant. Anger and disappointment flared. Marcus had promised he wasn't going to use her this way, and she had trusted him. She had actually trusted a Death Eater. That was stupid of her. That was probably going to get herself killed in the outbuildings one day.
But the man's smile softened just a fraction, just enough that the appraisal seemed to have a different edge to it. "I remember that look. I do remember those eyes." He tilted Katie's face again, painfully holding her jaw tightly. She tried to suppress a wince, but he cruelly laughed at the gasp when it came out. "Yes. I remember this. I remember your mother, girl."
Katie could barely breathe when he let her go. "My mother?" she choked. Her last memory of her mother was her dark hair spread on the floor, her green eyes staring up at the ceiling in a glassy stare. Blood was everywhere, her clothes shredded and the skin full of deep gouges where she had been pinned to the floor with knives.
The man stepped back a few paces and nodded at Marcus. "You can have what you want, Flint. I'll sign the papers." He moved back and peered at Katie's frightened, pale face. "You look just like your mother." He stroked her cheek almost tenderly. "But you're here. You've lived, despite Ruisart's efforts." He looked almost proud of her. "Yes, I accept you as my daughter."
The massive fireplace was the only thing keeping Katie upright as the two men left the room. She wasn't as important as the paperwork that had to be filled out, and that was fine with her. She couldn't figure out who the thin man was, why Marcus was involved or why it mattered if she was that man's daughter or not.
She remained where she was after the man left the house. It was a weird sort of waking dream. Eventually, she would wake up and this nightmare would be over. She would be back home, Wesley would complain about Gloria and the seminars he had to take at university. She would complain about her stupid job as a shop girl, and her mother would chide her and remind her that it was wonderful simply to be alive.
Her mother, who had died screaming and begging for Katie's life, screaming for Wesley to take Katie and run.
Katie was still in the parlor when Marcus returned an hour later, looking for her. He simply stood there, taking in her stunned expression. She still didn't understand what was happening, and she flinched when he approached her. "What was that about?" she asked, her voice somewhat hoarse.
"As it turns out, you're a halfblood, the bastard daughter of Rodolphus Lestrange."
She tried to picture that, but failed. Growing up, she had known that her parents had divorced before she was born. She was Wesley's younger sister, the one that always seemed to get scrapes on her knees and run faster and farther than the other children on the estate. She was the one who made glass shatter when she was angry.
"Who's he?" she asked finally, not sure if she even wanted to know.
"Someone from a very long and very pure bloodline. He's important in the Death Eater ranks. He fought in both wars." Marcus grasped her by the back of her neck. "He's shown you considerable mercy, accepting you as his daughter. He didn't have to."
"I know who I am," Katie replied. Her voice carried a tremor, but that didn't stop it from being true. "I don't need you to tell me."
Marcus smiled thinly, and it didn't reach his eyes. For some reason, it chilled her to the bone. "On the contrary. Without my intervention, you're nothing. I've brought your existence to his attention, and Lestrange is kind enough to accept you as his daughter."
"What do you get out of it?" she asked, and wondered if she could really be that bold with him standing over her like that.
Now his smile held teeth, and he seemed even more menacing than before. "You'll see soon enough." He nodded at her almost mockingly. "Bring my dinner to the lab tonight."
He was alone when she did. She stood there beside his desk, as he hadn't dismissed her. She'd tried leaving once prior to a dismissal and he had pulled her back into place by the back of her neck. It had caused a panic attack, and he had simply stood over her while she gasped for breath. "You do as I say," he had said in a bland tone of voice. "You only do as I say."
Marcus pushed the food away after he had eaten half of it. He rose and stood next to her, then reached out and touched her chin much in the same way that Lestrange had done earlier. "I wonder what he sees," he murmured, turning her face in one direction and then another.
"I'm the same as I was before," she replied, trying to sound a little bolder than she felt. Her breath hitched, however, and Marcus grinned at her false bravado.
"Of course you are," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now take off that robe and get on the table. Adrian should be here any minute, and I want to see if this new formula will take care of that burn on your ribs."
There were fewer scars on her front than her back, but there were still marks where the whip had curled around her torso and the brand had been pushed into her skin. Katie shivered when she pulled off the robe and was clad only in knickers. Marcus wasn't paying particular attention, so she held the robe against her breasts as she headed to the table. She was still bony and thin, but she couldn't tolerate the thought of being so exposed in front of him.
He pulled the robe away from her easily enough, of course. Marcus was putting the new salve over the remnants of her burn scars when Adrian strolled into the lab. "You're late," he said, not bothering to look up.
"I had paperwork," Adrian returned, shrugging. "It's only a half hour, anyway. Let's get started."
The new salve and the repair spell burned almost as badly as the brand had, and Katie screamed as she tried to jerk her body away from the spell. She fell off of the exam table and nearly convulsed with pain. It was hard to tell if the pain at her temple or her ribcage was worse.
"Fucking hell, Marcus," Adrian snapped. "I thought you tied her down."
"What for? I didn't need to yesterday," he grumbled. He picked her up easily and laid her back on the exam table with an expression of disgust. "Well? How much damage did that cause?"
"Superficial," Adrian said, healing the cut at the temple. He examined the burn mark on her torso carefully. "I heard Lestrange filed paperwork at the Ministry's Pureblood Registry," he commented, leaning over Katie's body.
"He's accepted her as his bastard daughter," Marcus intoned. "Well? Did it work or not?"
"It might need time," Adrian said after a moment. "But it does look different than before. Hold out her arm, and I'll try it without the salve."
Katie had been dazed by her fall, but the pain in her arm cut through it quickly. She screamed, yanking at her arm to free it from Marcus' tight grasp. Writhing in pain on the exam table, she flailed with her other arm and legs. She kicked Adrian before he could step out of the way fast enough, and wound up falling off of the table again. Because Marcus was holding onto her arm, he quickly pulled her back up. It felt as though he had pulled her arm out of its socket.
"This is why you tie them down," Adrian wheezed, shaking his head. "Lestrange's daughter or not, this is no way to have working conditions."
"Fine. I'll hold her down while you examine the arm. We're about done here tonight anyway."
Sobbing, Katie had to endure the examination spells that Adrian cast. Her torso and arm felt as though they were on fire, and the spells raked over the sensitive skin. She couldn't even hear Adrian's comments, though he had a disgusted curl to his lip. She couldn't tell if the spell had gone wrong or if it wasn't healing quickly enough for his tastes. Marcus let go of her shoulders when Adrian left the room, muttering the entire time. He watched her curl up on the exam table with an unperturbed expression. "Can you walk?" he asked, his tone detached and clinical.
"I don't know," she sobbed. Her skin hurt, and for a moment she thought she was in the dank cell in Nott's basement. "I don't know what you want from me," she wailed, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to see his blank face. Nott's superior grin kept superimposing itself over everything, and she wanted to vomit.
Marcus picked her up, surprisingly gentle despite pinning her down on the exam table. He brought her to her bedroom and deposited her on the bed without a word before shutting the door.
Katie looked at it, confused and dizzy and unable to move past her pain. She would have to puzzle it out later.
***
***
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for mentions of violence and eventually graphic sex. (That will be marked when I get there.) Read the Warnings, people!
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint.
Disclaimer: They originally belonged to JKR. I nicked her toys without permission. I sincerely doubt she'd like what I'm doing with them anyway.
Spoilers/Warnings: This is post-DH (minus the Epilogue of Doom) AU. As in, somehow during the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort didn't die. I start off with a bang, sometimes vaguely or not so vaguely referencing past physical and sexual violence. This is not a happy place to be in, and it's dark as all hell. Fits the "rape recovery" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Wizarding World was transformed into the world of his vision. Six years later, Potions Master Marcus Flint purchased a group of Mudbloods for experimentation. This was not supposed to be a difficult occurrence.
Prior chapters:
One - Bought And Sold
Two - Moving Through Nightmares
If Adrian felt bad about ripping open Katie's back with his spell, he gave no indication during his diagnostic spells. Katie was given the salves twice a day for a week, just to be sure that the scars healed over properly. She wasn't always given the blue potion; it seemed to depend on how irritated Marcus was with Katie's fearful behavior. For at least a week after that, Katie went through the motions of the housekeeping job she had been assigned. It was sometimes easy to get lost in the work, but at other times she found herself remembering being locked in a cell in Nott's basement or looking at the outbuilding and wondering what was happening to the remaining muggleborn people that Marcus was using to test his potions.
"Wear the sleeveless robe tonight after dinner," Marcus said when Katie brought him his lunch. He didn't say anything when her hand shook slightly as she set out his tray, and she left after nodding at him.
Her fear was getting the better of her; Marcus had said he was nothing like Nott, that he only intended to test potions on her. But what if?
Marcus only nodded at the exam table when Katie hesitantly came down the steps into the basement. Adrian was frowning over a set of notes in a folder, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Marcus was adjusting a small flame beneath a beaker on a stand. They completely and utterly ignored her fear and didn't seem to care about her presence one way or another. She got onto the exam table and laid down on her stomach, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. She kept her eyes open, though. She wasn't going to be able to see much, but it was better to have some indication if things were going to change in their treatment of her.
"It really shouldn't have had that much effect," Adrian said finally. "I know what your notes say, but really..."
"I can do simple diagnostics well enough by now." Marcus' tone brooked no argument. He had an assortment of jars on his desk. "We'll try a number of these variants I've made. I'll try them all tonight. I don't want to lose two weeks every time I do a field test because her back is cut open again by that spell."
Adrian frowned at his cousin. "Marcus..."
"Supposed to or not, it happened. I'd prefer if it didn't happen again."
Adrian grunted, and moved out of Katie's line of vision. He tugged at the buttons at her back. "This is new."
"She didn't appreciate my tearing the thing the other day," Marcus said, bringing the jars over to the exam table. "This does make things easier."
"Praising a mudblood?" Adrian taunted. "Will wonders never cease?"
Marcus practically growled, and pushed Adrian's hands away from Katie's back. He slathered on the different salves in thick stripes across her back, and she could feel the differences in consistency between each salve. Most made her skin feel cool and numb as well. She tucked her face into the crook of her arm as she heard Adrian move backward and away from the table. "You should tilt the damn table. That makes it easier to cast," he complained.
"Just cast the damn spell. You'd have to do it this way at Mungo's. Just get it over with."
Adrian cast the spell, and to Katie's relief she didn't feel the burning, stinging pain as she had two weeks before. She picked her head up slightly and turned to see their expressions. Adrian was thoughtful, and Marcus had a single eyebrow raised. "You've been tinkering after all," Marcus mused. "It worked much better this time."
"The scar tissue must have been too thin," Adrian agreed. "That's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, I know how to handle scars."
Marcus took a few damp cloths to clear the salve remains from Katie's back. "Interesting. There's also the arms and chest, you know. Think you can vary the strength of your spells?"
Adrian ran his finger along Katie's paraspinal muscles. She clenched her teeth to keep from recoiling at his touch. "It shouldn't be too hard, now that I know what works."
"Sounds good. Malfoy's coming by tomorrow with his report. Did you want to sit in on it?"
"What do I care about her background now? It would've been helpful in the first few days. At this point, I've done enough daily checks to have a good idea of baseline functioning." Adrian shrugged. "You can give me the short version if you like."
Katie was allowed to return upstairs after that, and she wondered what Malfoy would have to report about her. She wasn't sure exactly where or when this meeting would take place, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be around anyway.
The meeting was the next day in Marcus' office, spelled shut and silenced for confidentiality. Draco arrived via floo directly into the office and shook off his cloak. "Sorry about how long it took, mate. They wanted to check my Interpol credentials a few times in the beginning, and then I was called to investigate a series of murders in Ireland."
"What the bloody hell for? You don't do ordinary cases."
"Who said this was ordinary?" Draco asked, lofting an eyebrow at Marcus. He settled down across the desk and handed over a thick folder. "Here. This is Katie Bell's file. It includes all of the official stories, as well as my own investigation and theories."
Marcus set it down on his desk. "What do you mean, theories?"
Draco looked at the file with an almost disappointed air. "Someone could have fucked up. She might not be a muggleborn at all."
"What?"
Draco waited for Marcus to start paging through his work, to see if he would find the dots and draw the same connecting lines that he had. Katie Bell had been victimized a few times by Death Eaters, himself included. That had been an accident that Draco still deeply regretted. Things were not entirely what they seemed in the Wizarding World, but he wasn't ready to turn everything upside down just yet.
For his part, Marcus read quickly but thoroughly. Some snippets about her home life before she was sent the Hogwarts letter at eleven. Her Hogwarts record, her OWLS and NEWTS, her medical record, her Quidditch scores, known associates until her disappearance following the Battle at Hogwarts. Marcus slowed down and read with more interest the compilation of reports about Katie's abduction a year ago. The muggle forensics team had gone over the flat with a fine toothed comb. The bodies of her older brother and mother were there, brutally raped and tortured. Katie had been missing, but blood stains, hair and a torn part of a shirt were clues that she had not escaped unscathed. The muggle police had looked for any sign linking Katie's apparent kidnapping to any of their known felons, but had come up empty. Marcus could fill in the rest with what he knew of Nott's treatment of her. Draco had a few things down for that, and Marcus had to admire the succinct way Draco described the girl's torture.
Marcus finally looked up. "I don't see it."
"I noticed something about her birth date," Draco offered, prodding him along.
"November 1979," Marcus read aloud, flipping to the front of the file. "So?"
"It was before the end of the first war between the Order and our Lord," Draco said patiently. "Doesn't that get you wondering how a muggleborn could possibly have magic?"
Marcus was about to open his mouth and snarl "Get to the fucking point already" when he suddenly saw Draco's point. He looked back over the snippets of Katie Bell's home life. He had glossed over it before, thinking it irrelevant. Her biological father according to her birth certificate and all public muggle records was Edward Bell, who divorced Katie's mother when she was four months pregnant. Katie's mother didn't contest the divorce, didn't get any financial support and moved away from the town she had lived in all her life with her son Wesley. Then she gave birth to Katie.
Marcus looked up at Draco, tapping the file impatiently. "All right. I think I see what you're getting at. Fucking needle in a fucking haystack, if you ask me."
"I always find the needles," Draco replied with a grin. "But you see where I was going with that? I had to be certain before I brought you the file."
"Perfectionistic bastard," Marcus agreed. "So? What have you got?"
"I cross referenced all of the Death Eater raids and excursions between February and April 1979. Trust me, it was a lot of records to comb through."
Marcus frowned. "There were records? Whatever for?"
"Of course there were records. There are always records. That's what Travers is for. He's the record keeper." Draco leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh. "All records, good or ill. Trust me on that one, too. Not everyone gets to see them."
"Cut to the chase, Malfoy."
"Nott and Lestrange were heading the raids on the little muggle village that the Bells were living in. And nine months later, little Katie Bell is born."
If Marcus had eaten anything yet, he would have been ill. "Nott?"
"Small world, isn't it?" Draco agreed with a sharp nod. "Listen, it's up to you what to do with all of that," he said, indicating the folder of information. "This can die here, and it's simply speculation. She's registered as a muggleborn, and that's all she's known as. If you change her status, that would involve getting either man to accept her as his daughter, processing the paperwork and setting things to rights for her in the Registry. I've included that in the back of that folder if you wanted to do that." He watched Marcus' stunned expression. "I know how you feel about blood status, Marcus," Draco said quietly. "I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't tell you the truth."
"I've already gotten Nott written up for his shoddy practices. He'll never admit to fucking his own daughter and torturing her."
Draco didn't wince at Marcus' blunt tone. He was used to that and worse by now. "I'm not telling you what to do with it, Marcus. You're a friend, and I trust that you'll do what's right for your situation. You don't need it spoon fed."
But it practically was, wasn't it? Nott had a son and would never want it known that he had done horrible things to his daughter and sold her as a common muggleborn harlot.
Lestrange, on the other hand, had no children. After Bellatrix's death, he had never remarried. He was just a hair too crazed for most Pureblood mamas to want to sink their matchmaking hooks into him, so it was exceedingly unlikely that he would ever have issue. His estates would revert to the Ministry and to Voldemort. Centuries of Lestrange lands and properties, gone and never to be returned. For a man as deeply attached to his family lines as Lestrange was, it had to be a bitter realization. His wife had been more dedicated to Voldemort than to him, and now everything he had was going to go to the Dark Lord.
Marcus nodded and locked the folder in a drawer. "Thank you. I've a lot to think about."
Both men rose and shook hands over the desk. "I wish I had better news for you," Draco told him honestly. "At least there was nothing like this in any of the other purchases."
"That's good at least." He hesitated a fraction. "Your children are doing well?"
"Yes, and so is their mother," Draco said with a smile. "You can speak to her about my affairs when I'm out of the country, you know. She's well aware of what I do and what's going on. She could have gone over this with just as well as I have."
Marcus shrugged. "A family of blood traitors like that... I know you're above that kind of corruption, but not many men are. I don't know if the risk is worth the children you've got."
"Ginny and I have a history," Draco replied easily. He was used to the question, and it was not the first time this topic had come up. "She also has a history with our Lord. And if anyone still questions her, she still carries my mark."
"Everyone knows she's faithful to you," Marcus acknowledged. "But they don't trust her not to indoctrinate your children or try to plot against our Lord."
"Underneath that brash Gryffindor exterior, she's quite practical," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm technically still single, but no one's made any move to strike up an alliance."
"Because they know you won't touch her while you've got Ginevra." Marcus laughed and shook his head. "No woman is that stupid. I can't imagine being tied down at this point, but I suppose it's inevitable."
"For someone supposedly on the market, you've been hiding in your lab," Draco pointed out. "My mother thinks you'll never get married at this point."
"She should be occupied with grandbabies, not society marriages. Or lack thereof," he said with a wry smile.
"Mum thinks everyone is happier coupled off. Rather old fashioned of her, really. I tried telling her that you were in love with your potions, but she didn't buy that one for an instant."
"Thanks, mate. But the social whirl doesn't appeal. It's nothing but bullshit and lying about things that aren't even important to get just a kiss on the back of the hand. What a sodding waste."
Draco laughed. "Not everyone thinks it's appropriate to have a shag in the back gardens and then pluck the weeds to use as potions ingredients."
Marcus smiled ruefully at Draco. "So they're still talking about that one?"
"Nothing to replace it with," Draco pointed out. "But you've been hiding out in your labs over the past two and a half years. Elora would want you to get married." He held up his hands at Marcus' glower. "I miss her, too, mate," Draco said quietly. "She was good with Ginny and my Mum and didn't let you be such a miserable bastard. She'd be upset with how things have gotten for you. Though, the house looks better than that last time I was here. Have you actually started taking care of it again? That's a good sign."
"Bell does housekeeping duty when I'm not testing salves on her."
Draco nodded slowly. "Worth keeping, then. Anyway, you and Adrian are welcome at the Manor. He's here or at Mungo's and doesn't see anyone but you and Marinda Gatling. Maybe Vaisey, if you believe the rumors." He shrugged. "Just don't drop out of sight completely, will you?"
"I'll think about it," Marcus said, taking down the protective wards on his office. That effectively ended the conversation. "Thanks for the dossier. I'll go over it in more detail later. I have some thinking to do."
Draco nodded again and showed himself out. Marcus certainly did have a lot to think about, and Draco wasn't sure what he would decide to do. They had been closer once, but Marcus' young bride Elora Montague had died of a particularly vicious strain of griffin flu that she hadn't been treated for. By the time anyone realized what was happening with her, she was already dead. The Flint home was placed under quarantine for a full month, and Marcus hadn't been allowed to attend the funeral. Everyone knew he had blamed himself for Elora's death, as he had been working with various flu strains in his lab. If he washed up a bit better, used a different kind of rune in the house protections...
Sometimes things just didn't make sense. The only thing that did was potions, and Marcus threw himself into his work. He was so focused that it was easy to forget that he hadn't always been such a surly bastard, that once he had almost been sociable. Elora hadn't been some kind of society butterfly, but she had drawn him out into the right parties and helped him secure benefactors and funding for his research. Without her, he was left with whatever grants he had already applied for.
Draco apparated home. His friend would sort himself out eventually. He couldn't grieve forever.
***
"I believe we may be of some help to each other," Marcus began, looking at Rodolphus Lestrange over his glass of brandy.
The older man was reed-thin, with streaks of white shot through his dark hair. He had brown eyes and sharp, aquiline features. Marcus had a hard time seeing anything of Katie in his face, but she seemed to have taken after her mother's features. "And what is that?"
"I seem to have acquired a girl that may be your daughter," Marcus said, cutting right to the chase. He didn't enjoy drawn out cat and mouse games. He liked to dive right in and not deal with bullshit. It was another reason to avoid society balls and bureaucratic nonsense at St. Mungo's and work out of his own lab.
Lestrange blinked slowly. "Indeed?" he asked after a moment. "And how, pray tell, did you figure this out?"
Marcus slid a photograph across Lestrange's desk. "As you know, I do experiments with potions, salves, creams, that sort of thing. My cousin and I have done this for years, and I purchase subjects from Ruisart Nott."
"Greedy bastard," Lestrange said, leaning back in his chair to observe Marcus. "Not part of my current set of friends, but then, most of that lot are dead now."
Dipping his head slightly in a gesture of respect, Marcus continued. "One of them is this girl," he said, pointing to the photograph. "Katherine Elizabeth Bell, listed as a muggleborn who had graduated from Hogwarts in 1997. I have all of my test subjects researched by Draco Malfoy. I can't trust them not to lie about their medical history or background to destroy my work."
Lestrange picked up the muggle photograph of Katie and traced the lines of her face with a fingernail. "Yes. They are quite angry at being rounded up and herded like cattle." He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile at all. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Malfoy told me that nine months prior to her birth, you and Nott raped her mother."
He put the photo down on his desk. "Really?" He tapped his chin. "My nephew is a very competent investigator. And he's one of the few with access to Travers' files. It could very well be, if he says so."
Marcus took his calm demeanor as merely a thin veneer of normalcy. He was a cruel man and crazed in some ways. "There's no way for me to tell for certain, of course. But if she's a Halfblood and not a mudblood, I've been breaking the law. You see my concern."
Lestrange merely leveled a laserlike gaze at Marcus. "Why should I care? If she's considered a mudblood bitch, you could kill her and be done with it. No one else cares about those vile upstart pieces of trash." His voice was harsh, and Marcus remembered the stories about how a mudblood had taunted Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts.
"She might be your daughter."
"As you've said. She might be Nott's daughter, as well." Lestrange smiled at Marcus, but it was vicious and full of teeth. It was rather like a shark's smile, right before it bit off a limb. "But I'm the safer bet, aren't I?"
"Nott won't admit to fucking his virginal daughter and torturing her. It's generally frowned upon," Marcus replied evenly, only a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
"Oh, yes. Society. That travesty." Lestrange laughed. "Once they kowtowed to Lestranges. Once we owned all of that highbrow lot. But a few too many years in Azkaban, and suddenly you're not loved anymore."
Marcus indicated the photograph again. "Whoever her parentage, Nott did quite a lot of damage. It's led me to a few avenues of research I wouldn't have gone down otherwise. Namely, scar removal and organ regeneration."
"Organ regeneration?"
"Like Skelegro, but for whole organs. That's much trickier."
"What did he remove?"
"A few things, really, but I believe his target was her uterus."
Lestrange smiled that sharp, uncomfortable smile. "Ruisart was a naughty boy, wasn't he?"
"I have a detailed physical exam that my cousin did at the time of our acquisition. It was enough to get his license as a dealer revoked."
The smile froze in place on Lestrange's face. "It was? It was that bad?"
"Yes. He wouldn't have gotten into as much trouble if he simply kept her for himself rather than sell her off in a lot with other test subjects. Her condition was so degraded I had to find a separate room for her to recover from the wounds. My contract had called for five healthy mudbloods of mixed ages and gender, to serve as a cross section of the population. Some minor scrapes or bruises are to be expected. Extensive scarring, organ removal, infection and trauma aren't part of my contract."
"Well, perhaps for certain... collectors." Lestrange looked down at the photograph. "She was a pretty girl before."
"I've been fixing her. Physically, at least." Marcus swirled the brandy in his glass. "The scar removal techniques are almost perfected. I'm having trouble with some of the stubborn burns on her arm, but they were deep enough to char muscle." Lestrange looked up sharply from the photograph in his hands. "I'm almost ready to try the organ repair potions."
"Growing back a womb? How very special for you."
"It will need to be tested, of course," Marcus said evenly. He had this conversation with Adrian just that morning, and his cousin had shouted that he had gone out of his mind. Adrian didn't appreciate just how little Marcus cared for society, and Adrian couldn't fathom why Marcus would have to conduct experiments to this degree of accuracy.
But Lestrange made the connection quickly, and burst out laughing. "And now we get to how you benefit from this."
"You get a daughter. An heir for your family name, someone that would be tied to you. I get someone of pure enough blood to produce heirs."
"Have you fucked her yet?"
Marcus looked insulted and vaguely disgusted. "I don't use slaves that way."
"Your lot is a bit more... reserved, shall we say? Sometimes it's amusing. It's sport. It's muggle-baiting. It's getting a fuck because your wife is a cold bitch that would rather hang off the Dark Lord's robes than do her duty to have children." Lestrange's face was twisted up in anger, though Marcus knew it wasn't directed at him. "Make no mistake, we know just how diseased and spoiled muggles are, but they have their uses. No need to get so high and mighty."
"It's not my taste," Marcus replied with a shrug. "I don't appreciate the assumption I'm like Ruisart Nott."
Lestrange laughed, an unpleasant but not angry sound. His mercurial moods were difficult to navigate, but Marcus kept his temper in check. If Lestrange didn't choose to accept Katie as his bastard offspring, there was no point in even attempting to reconstruct her internal organs. He would never touch her if she was muggleborn.
"I'll need to see her, of course. I don't remember every woman I've raped, but maybe if I see her I'll be able to see if she's mine." Lestrange grinned at Marcus. "And if she's mine, I'll give her to you as a brood mare. Fair trade for finding her for me." His eyes narrowed to slits. "And of course I'll need to take the matter up with Nott. He was supposed to dispose of our playthings when we were done. He did a sloppy job, and I'll have to clean up his mess again."
Marcus nodded, keeping his mouth shut. "When do you want to see her?"
The flash of teeth in Lestrange's smile set Marcus' spine on edge. "Now is good."
***
Katie's nightmares were full of hands reaching for her. She woke with a gasp, and headed straight for the attic as soon as she woke up. She tucked herself into the eaves, right next to the window. She held herself tightly to keep from shaking, and simply looked out over the grounds around the Flint house. Summer was starting to fade into autumn, and the leaves were already starting to turn.
Since that first successful attempt at healing the scars on her back, Marcus had Adrian work on her arms. The sleeveless robe worked well enough for that, and it seemed strange to look at her arms in the bath and not see the thick whip scars any longer. The burn marks were proving to be more resistant to Adrian's spells, and changing the consistency of the salves or creams beneath the spell hadn't made too much of a difference. The burn marks remained, though Katie thought that the skin seemed less angry-looking after their treatments.
Katie uncurled herself and pulled the sleeves back on the drab gray robes. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the clear skin there. The scars had been there for nearly a year now, and she almost felt as if they were a badge of pride. For all that Ruisart Nott had done to her, she hadn't died. For all that she was still miserable and couldn't think about the trauma, she survived. She was a survivor, and being the test subject for Marcus and Adrian's mad experiments was nothing in comparison. It didn't stop her from being afraid in the meantime, but deep down, she knew that she had lived through the worst part already.
The skin at her wrist was soft and matched the skin at the back of her hand. It was as if she had never been scarred at all. The physical reminder of her past terror was gone now. It only existed in nightmares and flashbacks and startling at sudden movements or sounds. It existed in the burn marks on her upper arms that refused to go away.
The attic beams began to creak in that way they did just before dawn. Katie uncurled herself the rest of the way and pulled her sleeve down. She had a long day ahead of her. They were all long days, full of repetitive and dull housework and the occasional field test.
But on this day, it was different.
There was a tall, thin man with sharp features entering the parlor where she was dusting the mantel. He was dressed entirely in black, which only accentuated his pale skin and white streaks in his hair. His fingers were long and bony, clasped in front of him. The smile on his face was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only served to make Katie's spine crawl and her breath to catching in her throat. She tried to tamp down on her panic, but that gaze on her was hungry, and it reminded her too much of Nott's attentions. She edged backward, duster in hand. It was useless as a weapon, and she had no magic to use in her own defense.
Marcus stepped into the room. "That's her."
Katie was nearly choking on her panic when the thin man stepped forward and grasped her face with his bony fingers. He turned her face in various directions, as if appraising a jewel. When Nott had shared her, they simply seized her and did what they wanted. They didn't do this sort of appraisal, didn't make her feel so small and insignificant. Anger and disappointment flared. Marcus had promised he wasn't going to use her this way, and she had trusted him. She had actually trusted a Death Eater. That was stupid of her. That was probably going to get herself killed in the outbuildings one day.
But the man's smile softened just a fraction, just enough that the appraisal seemed to have a different edge to it. "I remember that look. I do remember those eyes." He tilted Katie's face again, painfully holding her jaw tightly. She tried to suppress a wince, but he cruelly laughed at the gasp when it came out. "Yes. I remember this. I remember your mother, girl."
Katie could barely breathe when he let her go. "My mother?" she choked. Her last memory of her mother was her dark hair spread on the floor, her green eyes staring up at the ceiling in a glassy stare. Blood was everywhere, her clothes shredded and the skin full of deep gouges where she had been pinned to the floor with knives.
The man stepped back a few paces and nodded at Marcus. "You can have what you want, Flint. I'll sign the papers." He moved back and peered at Katie's frightened, pale face. "You look just like your mother." He stroked her cheek almost tenderly. "But you're here. You've lived, despite Ruisart's efforts." He looked almost proud of her. "Yes, I accept you as my daughter."
The massive fireplace was the only thing keeping Katie upright as the two men left the room. She wasn't as important as the paperwork that had to be filled out, and that was fine with her. She couldn't figure out who the thin man was, why Marcus was involved or why it mattered if she was that man's daughter or not.
She remained where she was after the man left the house. It was a weird sort of waking dream. Eventually, she would wake up and this nightmare would be over. She would be back home, Wesley would complain about Gloria and the seminars he had to take at university. She would complain about her stupid job as a shop girl, and her mother would chide her and remind her that it was wonderful simply to be alive.
Her mother, who had died screaming and begging for Katie's life, screaming for Wesley to take Katie and run.
Katie was still in the parlor when Marcus returned an hour later, looking for her. He simply stood there, taking in her stunned expression. She still didn't understand what was happening, and she flinched when he approached her. "What was that about?" she asked, her voice somewhat hoarse.
"As it turns out, you're a halfblood, the bastard daughter of Rodolphus Lestrange."
She tried to picture that, but failed. Growing up, she had known that her parents had divorced before she was born. She was Wesley's younger sister, the one that always seemed to get scrapes on her knees and run faster and farther than the other children on the estate. She was the one who made glass shatter when she was angry.
"Who's he?" she asked finally, not sure if she even wanted to know.
"Someone from a very long and very pure bloodline. He's important in the Death Eater ranks. He fought in both wars." Marcus grasped her by the back of her neck. "He's shown you considerable mercy, accepting you as his daughter. He didn't have to."
"I know who I am," Katie replied. Her voice carried a tremor, but that didn't stop it from being true. "I don't need you to tell me."
Marcus smiled thinly, and it didn't reach his eyes. For some reason, it chilled her to the bone. "On the contrary. Without my intervention, you're nothing. I've brought your existence to his attention, and Lestrange is kind enough to accept you as his daughter."
"What do you get out of it?" she asked, and wondered if she could really be that bold with him standing over her like that.
Now his smile held teeth, and he seemed even more menacing than before. "You'll see soon enough." He nodded at her almost mockingly. "Bring my dinner to the lab tonight."
He was alone when she did. She stood there beside his desk, as he hadn't dismissed her. She'd tried leaving once prior to a dismissal and he had pulled her back into place by the back of her neck. It had caused a panic attack, and he had simply stood over her while she gasped for breath. "You do as I say," he had said in a bland tone of voice. "You only do as I say."
Marcus pushed the food away after he had eaten half of it. He rose and stood next to her, then reached out and touched her chin much in the same way that Lestrange had done earlier. "I wonder what he sees," he murmured, turning her face in one direction and then another.
"I'm the same as I was before," she replied, trying to sound a little bolder than she felt. Her breath hitched, however, and Marcus grinned at her false bravado.
"Of course you are," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now take off that robe and get on the table. Adrian should be here any minute, and I want to see if this new formula will take care of that burn on your ribs."
There were fewer scars on her front than her back, but there were still marks where the whip had curled around her torso and the brand had been pushed into her skin. Katie shivered when she pulled off the robe and was clad only in knickers. Marcus wasn't paying particular attention, so she held the robe against her breasts as she headed to the table. She was still bony and thin, but she couldn't tolerate the thought of being so exposed in front of him.
He pulled the robe away from her easily enough, of course. Marcus was putting the new salve over the remnants of her burn scars when Adrian strolled into the lab. "You're late," he said, not bothering to look up.
"I had paperwork," Adrian returned, shrugging. "It's only a half hour, anyway. Let's get started."
The new salve and the repair spell burned almost as badly as the brand had, and Katie screamed as she tried to jerk her body away from the spell. She fell off of the exam table and nearly convulsed with pain. It was hard to tell if the pain at her temple or her ribcage was worse.
"Fucking hell, Marcus," Adrian snapped. "I thought you tied her down."
"What for? I didn't need to yesterday," he grumbled. He picked her up easily and laid her back on the exam table with an expression of disgust. "Well? How much damage did that cause?"
"Superficial," Adrian said, healing the cut at the temple. He examined the burn mark on her torso carefully. "I heard Lestrange filed paperwork at the Ministry's Pureblood Registry," he commented, leaning over Katie's body.
"He's accepted her as his bastard daughter," Marcus intoned. "Well? Did it work or not?"
"It might need time," Adrian said after a moment. "But it does look different than before. Hold out her arm, and I'll try it without the salve."
Katie had been dazed by her fall, but the pain in her arm cut through it quickly. She screamed, yanking at her arm to free it from Marcus' tight grasp. Writhing in pain on the exam table, she flailed with her other arm and legs. She kicked Adrian before he could step out of the way fast enough, and wound up falling off of the table again. Because Marcus was holding onto her arm, he quickly pulled her back up. It felt as though he had pulled her arm out of its socket.
"This is why you tie them down," Adrian wheezed, shaking his head. "Lestrange's daughter or not, this is no way to have working conditions."
"Fine. I'll hold her down while you examine the arm. We're about done here tonight anyway."
Sobbing, Katie had to endure the examination spells that Adrian cast. Her torso and arm felt as though they were on fire, and the spells raked over the sensitive skin. She couldn't even hear Adrian's comments, though he had a disgusted curl to his lip. She couldn't tell if the spell had gone wrong or if it wasn't healing quickly enough for his tastes. Marcus let go of her shoulders when Adrian left the room, muttering the entire time. He watched her curl up on the exam table with an unperturbed expression. "Can you walk?" he asked, his tone detached and clinical.
"I don't know," she sobbed. Her skin hurt, and for a moment she thought she was in the dank cell in Nott's basement. "I don't know what you want from me," she wailed, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to see his blank face. Nott's superior grin kept superimposing itself over everything, and she wanted to vomit.
Marcus picked her up, surprisingly gentle despite pinning her down on the exam table. He brought her to her bedroom and deposited her on the bed without a word before shutting the door.
Katie looked at it, confused and dizzy and unable to move past her pain. She would have to puzzle it out later.
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