Fic: Defiance (Tom/Ginny)
Title: Defiance
Character(s): Bellatrix, Ginny/Tom
Prompt: the cruelest month
Rating: umm... R?
Word Count: 1089
Summary: she never understood how it wasn't easy
Author's Notes: in case you didn't catch it, or didn't realize it, these are kind of in the same verse. i've written them in order of the way i want them to be read.
Ginny’s hair hung in dirty clumps down her back. She shifted against her bonds, causing a greasy lock to fall in her eyes. Cursing when she couldn’t brush it back. Tears caused thing tracks down her weary face, a macabre likeness of the Ginny her friends once knew.
“Dirty, filthy blood traitor.” She swallowed, looked up defiantly. “Look at you,” the voice taunted from the shadows. “Look at you, wallowing in your own filth. Scum.” Bella came out from the shadows, twirling her wand in her hands. She eyed the youngest Weasley, up and down, a malicious sneer reminiscent of her nephew’s upon her face. She stepped closer to Ginny, who recoiled in fear. Closer, until Bella almost choked on the stench that littered Ginny.
She ran her wand down Ginny’s cheek, tracing a tear track, brushing back the stray lock. She lifted Ginny’s chin with the wand and leaned in, almost until their lips touched. “Filthy whore,” Bella whispered against Ginny, her wand making suggestions across her neck.
She stepped back and laughed, a high cold laugh eerily reminiscent of her master. Ginny shuddered and closed her eyes.
“You will look at me when I speak to you,” a deadly whisper in the quiet cell.
Ginny turned away, her eyes still closed. Furious, Bella slapped her face before remembering her place. She laughed again.
“Crucio.”
Ginny screamed. Later, she could still hear the echoes of her screams and Bella’s laughter. A promise was made, to her, for her, and Bella made sure she kept up on her end of the bargain.
Ginny faded in and out of consciousness as Bella grew angry with her pet. She refused to play, to scream anymore. Bella tried all she could, just to the point, just until she knew she’d fall out of favor.
“Crucio.”
“Take me to him,” she whispered, her voice soft against the echoes of her screams. Bella started at the unfamiliar sound and walked closer to her pet.
“Take me to him,” her voice croaked. She looked up, hair forming a greasy limp curtain around her gaunt face. She was almost unrecognizable as a Weasley now, except for the freckles on the bridge of her nose that stood out against her pale, tortured face, and her Gryffindor stupidity. “Take me to him,” stronger now, more in control than she had been since entering her hell weeks ago.
Bella struck her with the back of her hand, Black family rings creating scars against Ginny’s pleas. She stepped closer as if to strike again, but loosened her bonds. “No one, I repeat, no one gives orders to me.” She pulled Ginny up by her hair. “Especially a filthy, Gryffindor, blood-traitor whore.” She shoved her down, spat, and stepped on her back to get to the door.
Ginny made to get up but again, “Crucio.” She cried out, “why?” Bella laughed, twirling the wand.
“Crawl,” she said, pointing her wand.
Ginny left the room crawling, scraping her knees and elbows against the rough stone floor. She blinked as she suddenly left the shadows and came upon harsh light. She turned back to Bella.
She threw something at her, heavy cloth hitting her in the face. “He said you’re to be presentable and to wear this.” Bella slammed the door, leaving Ginny alone.
Taking a few calming breaths, Ginny took in her surroundings. An enchanted window gave the room its only light. She could see a hook with a threadbare towel hanging from it and an imposing claw-foot bathtub in the corner. She sank into the water, failing to notice the blackness that washed off. She didn’t notice too much else as she rinsed the filth from her hair and drank a few blessed draughts.
Reluctantly she left the bathtub, drying off while shivering, standing on the stone floor. She picked up the heavy cloth Bella had thrown at her and discovered a gown.
A gown fit for a queen. She hugged the material to herself, twirling as she smiled for the first time in weeks, her lips cracking from disuse. She put the gown on, smoothing it down as she noticed how well it complemented her figure and colour. She danced with excitement as a bride would before walking down the aisle to finally marry her groom.
Darkness fell, anticipation rose. With it came noises she couldn’t hear past the echoes of screams. She waited to be taken to him. She replayed conversations in her head.
She stood tall, proud, waiting for her prince. Bella and two others in masks waited by the door. Everything was quiet before she heard him breathing, as if his presence had suddenly caused everything to pause and take notice of him. His shadow first entered the room. She held her breath. The room darkened as he walked in, turning first to the guards, nodding for them to leave. When Bella refused he silenced her with a wave of his hand and shut the door behind her.
Gently, softly, he walked to Ginny.
“Ginevra,” he breathed, lifting her hands in his.
She smiled prettily and blushed. “Tom,” she sighed happily.
She tried looking beyond his mask but was soon distracted by his words, words that had never yet failed to capture her soul. He told her of conquests, of conquering, of defeating, of winning, all in her honour. He played the perfect gentleman, bowing before her, kissing her hand, his long fingers caressing her wrist like he would his wand.
He voice lulled her, reminded her of a happier time in her life, when she could trust. Warily she looked at him again, trying to see past his façade.
He changed, became withdrawn, darker. His presence seemed to fill the room again, until she was almost suffocating. She sensed the shift and drew closer, for release. She reached for his hood when he captured her wrist and forced it down by her side.
Fear entered her heart. Her Tom would not have hurt her. Determined, she defied him and reached for his hood. Again he stopped her, this time his eyes glowed red from beneath the hood. She pulled back, gasping as he leaned toward her.
“Tom?” she whispered.
Closer again, darkness, bleakness, blackness pouring over her, releasing fear and heartache to her. “Tom?”
He hissed in reply. “My filthy mudblood father’s name.” He faced her, removing the hood.
“Tom?” frightened now. Ginny backed herself into the corner, afraid to take her eyes off of him, the one she though she knew.
“I am Lord Voldemort.”
Character(s): Bellatrix, Ginny/Tom
Prompt: the cruelest month
Rating: umm... R?
Word Count: 1089
Summary: she never understood how it wasn't easy
Author's Notes: in case you didn't catch it, or didn't realize it, these are kind of in the same verse. i've written them in order of the way i want them to be read.
Ginny’s hair hung in dirty clumps down her back. She shifted against her bonds, causing a greasy lock to fall in her eyes. Cursing when she couldn’t brush it back. Tears caused thing tracks down her weary face, a macabre likeness of the Ginny her friends once knew.
“Dirty, filthy blood traitor.” She swallowed, looked up defiantly. “Look at you,” the voice taunted from the shadows. “Look at you, wallowing in your own filth. Scum.” Bella came out from the shadows, twirling her wand in her hands. She eyed the youngest Weasley, up and down, a malicious sneer reminiscent of her nephew’s upon her face. She stepped closer to Ginny, who recoiled in fear. Closer, until Bella almost choked on the stench that littered Ginny.
She ran her wand down Ginny’s cheek, tracing a tear track, brushing back the stray lock. She lifted Ginny’s chin with the wand and leaned in, almost until their lips touched. “Filthy whore,” Bella whispered against Ginny, her wand making suggestions across her neck.
She stepped back and laughed, a high cold laugh eerily reminiscent of her master. Ginny shuddered and closed her eyes.
“You will look at me when I speak to you,” a deadly whisper in the quiet cell.
Ginny turned away, her eyes still closed. Furious, Bella slapped her face before remembering her place. She laughed again.
“Crucio.”
Ginny screamed. Later, she could still hear the echoes of her screams and Bella’s laughter. A promise was made, to her, for her, and Bella made sure she kept up on her end of the bargain.
Ginny faded in and out of consciousness as Bella grew angry with her pet. She refused to play, to scream anymore. Bella tried all she could, just to the point, just until she knew she’d fall out of favor.
“Crucio.”
“Take me to him,” she whispered, her voice soft against the echoes of her screams. Bella started at the unfamiliar sound and walked closer to her pet.
“Take me to him,” her voice croaked. She looked up, hair forming a greasy limp curtain around her gaunt face. She was almost unrecognizable as a Weasley now, except for the freckles on the bridge of her nose that stood out against her pale, tortured face, and her Gryffindor stupidity. “Take me to him,” stronger now, more in control than she had been since entering her hell weeks ago.
Bella struck her with the back of her hand, Black family rings creating scars against Ginny’s pleas. She stepped closer as if to strike again, but loosened her bonds. “No one, I repeat, no one gives orders to me.” She pulled Ginny up by her hair. “Especially a filthy, Gryffindor, blood-traitor whore.” She shoved her down, spat, and stepped on her back to get to the door.
Ginny made to get up but again, “Crucio.” She cried out, “why?” Bella laughed, twirling the wand.
“Crawl,” she said, pointing her wand.
Ginny left the room crawling, scraping her knees and elbows against the rough stone floor. She blinked as she suddenly left the shadows and came upon harsh light. She turned back to Bella.
She threw something at her, heavy cloth hitting her in the face. “He said you’re to be presentable and to wear this.” Bella slammed the door, leaving Ginny alone.
Taking a few calming breaths, Ginny took in her surroundings. An enchanted window gave the room its only light. She could see a hook with a threadbare towel hanging from it and an imposing claw-foot bathtub in the corner. She sank into the water, failing to notice the blackness that washed off. She didn’t notice too much else as she rinsed the filth from her hair and drank a few blessed draughts.
Reluctantly she left the bathtub, drying off while shivering, standing on the stone floor. She picked up the heavy cloth Bella had thrown at her and discovered a gown.
A gown fit for a queen. She hugged the material to herself, twirling as she smiled for the first time in weeks, her lips cracking from disuse. She put the gown on, smoothing it down as she noticed how well it complemented her figure and colour. She danced with excitement as a bride would before walking down the aisle to finally marry her groom.
Darkness fell, anticipation rose. With it came noises she couldn’t hear past the echoes of screams. She waited to be taken to him. She replayed conversations in her head.
She stood tall, proud, waiting for her prince. Bella and two others in masks waited by the door. Everything was quiet before she heard him breathing, as if his presence had suddenly caused everything to pause and take notice of him. His shadow first entered the room. She held her breath. The room darkened as he walked in, turning first to the guards, nodding for them to leave. When Bella refused he silenced her with a wave of his hand and shut the door behind her.
Gently, softly, he walked to Ginny.
“Ginevra,” he breathed, lifting her hands in his.
She smiled prettily and blushed. “Tom,” she sighed happily.
She tried looking beyond his mask but was soon distracted by his words, words that had never yet failed to capture her soul. He told her of conquests, of conquering, of defeating, of winning, all in her honour. He played the perfect gentleman, bowing before her, kissing her hand, his long fingers caressing her wrist like he would his wand.
He voice lulled her, reminded her of a happier time in her life, when she could trust. Warily she looked at him again, trying to see past his façade.
He changed, became withdrawn, darker. His presence seemed to fill the room again, until she was almost suffocating. She sensed the shift and drew closer, for release. She reached for his hood when he captured her wrist and forced it down by her side.
Fear entered her heart. Her Tom would not have hurt her. Determined, she defied him and reached for his hood. Again he stopped her, this time his eyes glowed red from beneath the hood. She pulled back, gasping as he leaned toward her.
“Tom?” she whispered.
Closer again, darkness, bleakness, blackness pouring over her, releasing fear and heartache to her. “Tom?”
He hissed in reply. “My filthy mudblood father’s name.” He faced her, removing the hood.
“Tom?” frightened now. Ginny backed herself into the corner, afraid to take her eyes off of him, the one she though she knew.
“I am Lord Voldemort.”