Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Set In Stone	By : ANONYMONSTER Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 2876 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or its characters, and I do not make money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
CHAPTER FOUR

Engraved in Gold

Tom had left swiftly after their last encounter.

“I’ve some business to attend to,” he’d said. “Be a good little pet while I’m gone, won’t you?”

Before Tom had left, he’d muttered an incantation, causing the dust of Willow’s old locket to swirl around on the floor. It started to glow softly before reforming and expanding to create a golden shackle with a long chain attached to it. The chain clattered against the floor as he took her down three flights of stairs and into a dark room. He’d waved his wand one last time, and the chair dug itself deeply into the cold, rough floor, which Willow figured was stone. When he was gone, Willow crawled to the corner of the room, drawing her knees up to her chest to try and conserve her warmth. Breathing deeply, Willow used wandless magic to create a small ball of light, which she sent to the center of the room. Willow cringed at what she saw. The room was like a dungeon, dark stone walls, no windows, and a heavy iron door that would cut off any sound from outside. However, none of those features were what had made Willow’s heart falter, her breath quicken. The reason Willow pushed herself farther into the corner and closed her eyes tightly, letting the ball of light flicker out of existence, was that she had seen the room before. She had seen the dark stains on the floor, caused by the blood of countless muggles who had been tortured there. She had seen the small crack in the back right corner, just large enough for a mouse to squeeze through, and the bracket attached to the wall beside the door. Only then, a torch had been in the bracket. Then, Tom had been in the room, anguish clear in eyes. Then, Willow had been on the floor, taking her very last breath. Willow was trapped inside the very room that she had watched herself die in.

By the time Tom returned, Willow was shivering, trying- and failing- to add thickness to her robe with wandless magic. “It’s so b-bloody c-cold…” Willow muttered to herself, rubbing her palms together before pulling her robes tighter around her. A sharp click made Willow jump, and she turned her head towards the now opening door, wincing as the bright light from the hall hit her eyes. Tom stepped into the room carrying a lit torch, and Willow watched with wide eyes as he placed it in the bracket. No, no, this is too soon… Willow tried to recall every single detail from the vision of her death, and began to compare it with what was happening now. She sighed in relief when she compared Tom’s robes. The ones from the vision had been a much darker shade, whereas the ones he wore now seemed to be faded. Noticing Willow’s reaction- first the paralyzing fear, then the relief moments later- Tom cocked his brow.

“Relief? I’ve never seen a slave who was so relieved to see her Master so soon after the process began.” Tom walked slowly up to Willow’s shivering form in the corner, a distinct tap echoing through the room every time one of his feet met the floor. “Or is it something else entirely?” The wizard inquired, his eyes gazing into Willow’s knowingly. “I recall that you were able to see the future when we were younger,” Tom stated before shrugging off his robe and tossing it over to the other end of the room. He put his hand to his bare chin, as if in deep thought. “That was something you- surprisingly- did not hide from me.” Tom began to pace the room slowly, and in an utmost patronizing manner, said, “The girl who envisions the walking dead.” Tom smirked as Willow glared at him. “Ah, but you were right about that, weren’t you? I’ve got myself a fine little army at the bottom of the lake, deep inside that cave.” Tom laughed, a dark, humorless sound. “You remember that cave, do you not? Ah, yes, I see the recognition in your eyes,” Tom said with a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a hiss. “I used to be quite fond of that memory. Two little children, and a solemn promise. But wait- that’s not quite how it went, was it?” Tom had stopped pacing and now stood dangerously close to the cowering form of the one he wished he didn’t love. “It was one child, a deceiving, heartless bitch and a LIE!” As Tom shouted the last word, he reached out and grabbed Willow by her silken collar, lifting her up until her feet could no longer reach the ground. “You’ve seen your death in this room, haven’t you?”

“Nngh!” Willow gasped, kicking her feet and reaching her hands up to her collar to dig her nails into Tom’s pale flesh.

Tom sucked in air with a slow hiss, his eyes slitting as he stared at Willow. “Try a little harder, pet. I’m not quite enjoying it yet.”

“You… Are not… s-supposed to- Ngh!- find s-satisfaction in it, you… b-b…b-”

“B-b-b-bastard?” Tom mocked his slave, smirking as he did. “Come, now, Willow. Stop choking on your words and just spit it out.”

Willow tried to do exactly that, letting saliva build up in her mouth before attempting to eject it right onto Tom’s face- only she couldn’t build up enough force the way he was holding her, so it dribbled aimlessly down her chin.

Tom narrowed his eyes, turning his head away in disgust before he let Willow drop, like a rag doll, to the floor. “You might try to be kinder to your Master,” he hissed, pulling out his wand as Willow began taking in as much air as she could hold. She had been choked twice already, and she wasn’t growing any fonder of it. However, she would gladly risk getting choked again to say what she had to say.

“Your lust for power has gone to your head. You do not own me, Riddle, and you never will…” Willow sat herself up slowly after she had caught her breath, minding the bruises she could already see forming as she moved. “You are a weak and ignorant shell of the boy I used to know, and for that reason only, I shall call you Voldemort, for I see no Tom Riddle here.” Willow winced as she forced herself to stand, the cold of the room having made her bones feel weak. “You are a carcass, dripping with every vile, putrid thing wizard-kind has ever done,” Willow continued. “You fill yourself with contempt and hatred for those around you, you exile yourself by belittling everyone else.” Willow pushed her thick curls away from her face, her eyes locking into Tom’s. “And you do this- all of this- because secretly, you hate yourself. You hate what you’ve become, and you blame it on me, and on the rest of the world to try and make yourself feel better. But it doesn’t work, does it? It will never work! You can kill me, but you will hate yourself until the day you die.”

Tom stood silent for a moment, his wand half raised towards Willow, before he said coolly, “That may be so, but at least I’ll be rid of you.” The wizard turned to leave, stopping and looking back as Willow’s harsh laughter filled the room. “What?”

“You’ll never be rid of me, my Lord,” Willow’s voice dripped with sarcasm at the last two words, and she bravely stepped closer to Tom and turned him to face her completely. “You regret killing me, in the end. I’ve seen it. Anguish. Anguish worse than you felt the day you realized that I was gone, and I would never come back.”

Tom’s expression grew dark, and he closed the distance between them, grinning as Willow’s demeanor seemed to falter. “You are either very courageous, or very foolish,” he hissed, bringing his wand up to prod into her chin. “Personally, I’d vote the latter.”

“I may be a fool, but so are you.” Willow said, quickly regaining her composure.

“Oh, am I? And why is that?” Her Master asked, snaking an arm around her and pressing his hand against the small of her back, forcing her even closer.

Willow’s lips slowly spread into a seductive smile as Tom did all of the things she had thought he would do. One of the reasons they had been so close as children was because they both had such strong personalities. Now, as a man, Tom loved a woman who was courageous, who could glance past the veil people put up and see things for what they were. He loved a woman who could pull herself up and be strong, even in the worst situation. Willow was that woman at that moment- and she knew it. With a single batting of her eyes, Willow had Tom drawing his lips closer to hers. She let him get just close enough to feel the breath of her whispered words against his lips before she spoke. “You are a fool, because you love me. With all of your heart.” Willow smirked triumphantly, believing she had won, that she had outwitted the man who kept her chained to the floor, but one look into his malicious eyes told her otherwise.

“And you are an even bigger fool,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with every word he spoke, “because you believe I actually have a heart.” With that, the Dark Lord, as he had come to be known, stepped back, his wand pointed at Willow’s chest. “Crucio!”

“AAHHHNGH!” Willow cried out, dropping to the floor as the pain began. It started with a fire, building up in the caverns of her heart. It began to grow hotter, expanding and pulsing as if it were ready to explode. “NGH! NNNAAHH!” Willow couldn’t see a thing, nor could she hear herself scream. The only thing she knew was the pain that erupted from her chest and began to burn swiftly through her veins. Willow could feel the fire race down her back, and she arched it unconsciously, as if it could expel the heat. The fire burned hotter still, filling her arms, and then her legs. She didn’t notice her nails digging into her palms on both of her hands, drawing blood, or when she smeared that blood onto the floor as she scratched at it, groping for something, anything, to relieve the pain. When the fire spiraled up her throat, she choked out a distorted shriek of agony, thrashing her head from side to side as the fire seared through her skull. With one shaky hand covering his mouth, Tom released the spell, and, as he watched Willow continue to writhe on the floor from the lingering sensation, he found that he did indeed have a heart. And it was breaking.

“Say something,” Tom said softly as Willow’s body finally stopped writhing, her breathing returning to normal. “Will? Willow! Say something!” Tom tried to sound demanding, but it sounded more like a plea.

Willow opened her eyes slowly, and shifted them to look at Tom. “I t-told you… you love me.” Most women wouldn’t say that after the man in question had tortured them, but Willow knew. She could see it in his eyes, in the single tear that rolled down his cheek- though she was sure if she told him he was crying, he would only get angry and deny it.

“Do you… love me?”

The question caught Willow by surprise, and she almost said ‘no’, but that wasn’t quite true. “I used to,” she said instead, sitting herself up so that she could talk to Tom with more ease. “But… I can’t love a man who doesn’t even like himself, let alone know himself.”

Tom sighed in frustration and put his wand away. “That was not the answer I wanted.”

“And this was not the life I wanted. We are impeccably matched in our discontent.” Willow retorted, rubbing her arms as the cold set in again.

Tom walked over to his robe and picked it up before tossing it to Willow. “Put it on. I don’t want my little pet to get sick. That would not be very enjoyable.” Next, he took the torch from the bracket and opened the door. “You will love me again, Willow,” Tom said, closing the door and leaving Willow alone in the cold, dark cell.

When he was sure that the door was closed, Tom hurled the torched as hard as he could, watching as it hit the stone wall in a shower of sparks. “Why does she not love me!?” He yelled into the darkness of the corridor. Getting no reply, he growled in frustration and went up to the main floor of the old abandoned house, his ‘hideout’ as most called it. He supposed that was true, for the most part. It didn’t really feel like a house to him. Then again, no place felt like home to Tom. “I hate feeling like this,” he muttered to himself, pacing around the living room. “I wish I could just kill the wretch and get it over with,” Tom grumbled. Even saying it, he knew that he could never do it. But she’s seen it, he thought, pulling out his wand and running his fingers along the length of it. She’s seen me kill her… Tom let out a frustrated groan, kicking the closest thing to him- the rabbit he had transfigured. It flew across the room in a blurry ball of fur. The rabbit hit the wall and was forced back into its regular form before it dropped to the ground.

“I have been working towards this very moment for twenty-nine years, and now that I have her, I do not even know what I am supposed to do! I’ve never felt so weak in my entire life! Then I have her at long last, and she is so… so much like she used to be. Radiant, intelligent… Stubborn as a mule.” Tom found that the more he thought about Willow, the larger his smile became, which just infuriated the Dark Lord even more. “IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!” He shouted, storming around the room. “DAMN HER! DAMN HER TO HELL!” Magical energy sparked through the room. Everything the magic touched began to disintegrate. The paint on the walls began to peel, the floorboards began to shrink and crack, the furniture looked as if it were being burned slowly by an invisible flame. “I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin! I have split my soul six times, I alone opened the Chamber of Secrets and controlled the great basilisk! I give grown men nightmares, and I have murdered and tortured muggles and magic-folk alike without a second thought… but I cannot bear to use my wand against her…” Tom couldn’t think of any way around it. He couldn’t have his Death Eaters torture her, because he would end up murdering them for hurting her. He couldn’t do it himself, because he couldn’t bear the sight of her in pain, nor could he bear the sound, or even the thought of her in pain. He couldn’t just let her go, either. Not after I’ve spent so long searching for her, he thought. He knew that he would grow accustomed to torturing her, but did he want to put himself through pain doing so?

Tom stood still for a moment and took in the sight of the room. It had been a wreck before, but now it just looked awful. It was almost as if the room had been left alone to rot for one hundred years. The walls were beginning to cave in on each other, the floors were sinking, the ceiling was crumbling and the furniture was far beyond repair- in fact, the whole room was far beyond repair. At least it would have been, to a muggle. “Look what you’ve done to me, Willow…” Tom sighed in exasperation, easily fixing the room with a quick swish of his wand. “All hail the Gaela Witch, for even the Dark Lord Voldemort bows to her,” Tom said sarcastically. “If she’d just love me already, I could break her heart and get this over with…” Tom grumbled. Not knowing what else to do, he turned on his heel, disapparating to the house of one of his loyal Death Eaters, Cygnus Black.

He appeared on the doorstep to the Black house, not bothering with the formalities of entering a house that belonged to someone else. With a wave of his wand, he cast the door open and walked in, his steps echoing throughout the hall. Hearing voices coming from a room just ahead, he continued through the hall, stopping just at the doorway. A family of five sat, gathered around a dinner table. Cynus and Druela sat at either end of the table, whilst their three young daughters- Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda- sat along the length of the table, with their backs to the doorway. “Good evening.”

All five members of the family turned their heads sharply, but Cygnus was the only one who spoke.

“M-my Lord! I was not expecting you! Otherwise I would have prepared-”

“Do not bother, Cygnus, I will not be staying long. However, I should like to speak with you alone,” he said, nodding towards the females. “This subject may be a tad delicate for their ears.”

“Of course, My Lord!” Cygnus stood and bowed to the Dark Lord before he turned to his wife. “Take the girls upstairs.” Druela stood and bowed to the Dark Lord as well, before exiting the room, her daughters following along behind her. “We have pulled the girls out of school just as you asked, my Lord, so that we would not be suspected. Many parents have taken their children home for a few weeks. I believe we have managed to blend well. Your plan was a success, as always, my Lord.”

“Not a complete success, Cygnus. Not quite.”

“My Lord?”

“The girl. She is a stubborn witch.” And she knows exactly how to get under my skin, he thought, grimacing. “I am not sure how I will break her. Even after using the Cruciatus Curse, her will holds strong… The only way to hurt her would be to rap her, or break her heart, and I have absolutely no idea where to start with that-”

“If I may, my Lord.”

Tom and Cygnus flicked their eyes to the young Bellatrix Black, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Bellatrix! Go to your room at once!”

“Perhaps we should hear the child out, Cygnus. After all, she did convince Ms. Hart to leave Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Bellatrix smiled softly as she stepped into the room. “You are wise in every way but one, my Lord.”

“Bella-!”

“Silence, Cygnus. Let her speak.”

Cygnus nodded and took a few steps back, letting his daughter take his place in front of the man they feared and respected.

“As I was saying, you are wise in every way but one. You know nothing of love. Love is fragile, and needs room to grow. You cannot force someone to love you, but you can trick them.” Bellatrix grinned, flipping her wild hair over her shoulder. “You must be kind to her, but also strict, so that she knows she has some freedoms, but she may not leave. That will leave just enough room for her to fall in love with you. Bring her out with you, but never let her leave your side. Give her gifts, things she would cherish. She knew you long ago, did she not? Did she like you then?” Bellatrix paused just long enough for Tom to nod. “Be that person. Remind her of a time when you were both happy together. Give her a reason to want to stay with you. Every day, ask her if she loves you. At first, her answer will be immediate, and it will be no. But with each passing day, you’ll notice that she takes longer and longer to reply, until there comes a day when she does not reply at all. Don’t ask her anymore after that day. Instead, tell her you love her, and continue telling her, until the day she says it back. And that is the day you break her heart.”

Tom nodded slowly before grinning. “I like your daughter, Cygnus. She has potential.” Tom said. “However… I am not quite willing to give up so much control over her just yet. She must learn to love me, but she must also bow to me.”

Bella grinned, chuckling softly. “You’ll take my advice, my Lord. Wait and see.”

“Be careful how you talk to me in the future, Ms. Black. I might not be so accepting of your tone.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Bellatrix said, stepping away and letting her father take back his place in front of the Dark Lord.

“I apologize for my daughter’s blatant disrespect, my Lord! I assure you she is not usually so-”

“Cygnus, you bore me with your incessant blathering!” Tom growled. Cygnus stopped talking and just bowed. By the time Cygnus was standing upright again, the Dark Lord had vanished.

When he reappeared in his ‘home’, Tom stepped into the kitchen. It was the only room in the house that he never made use of. If he wished for a meal, he made his house elf do it. Unfortunately, he had killed the little cretin three days earlier for daring to suggest that the Dark Lord was in love with the very woman he wanted dead. Of course, all of that was entirely true… But that was beside the point.

Tom walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. In it sat a measly chunk of cheese and a bowl of wilted lettuce. He opened the freezer next, peering into the dark space. “What on earth…” He pulled out a rock-hard pack of meat, sniffing it before setting it on the counter. “Is that… Chicken?” The Dark Lord squinted, poking the package with his wand. “Well, it certainly doesn’t look like a chicken. But it clearly states… Oh, blast it!” Tom grumbled. “How do I open this thing?” Tom stood there for a while, watching the frozen pack of chicken, as if it would open by itself. Becoming frustrated, Tom picked up the package and tried to tear it open, soon growing tired of that as well. He began to bang the meat against the counter, cursing, wondering how poor people could put up with all of this hassle. Finally. He threw the chicken to the floor and pulled out his wand. “Avada Kedavera!” He shouted, shooting a green spark at the chicken, which then exploded, sending chunks of chicken flying across the room. “Oh, confound it all!” Tom stormed over to the fridge and threw the door open with such force that he barely had time to grab the small bit of cheese before the door bounced off of the wall and slammed shut.

Tom tromped down the stairs angrily, trying hard not the squeeze the cheese into oblivion in all his rage. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before he opened the door to Willow’s cell and tossed the cheese to her. Willow, having been half asleep, finally managing to become warm enough to drift off now that she had the extra robe, rubbed her eyes tiredly, jumping slightly as the cheese hit her on the cheek and bounced into her lap. “Eat it.” He commanded, standing in the doorway and waiting for her to put the food in her mouth. “Eat it!” He growled impatiently.

Willow blinked as he shouted at her, feeling around in her lap for the cheese. When she found it, she picked it up and unwrapped it slowly before taking a cautionary sniff. “You couldn’t have at least cooked something? This is hardly enough to keep a person alive in conditions like this,” Willow complained. She figured she deserved at least a nice meal every day if she was going to be kept in her death room.

“Such trivial things are below me,” Tom scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. Willow caught something else there, though- a small flicker of annoyance, followed by Tom licking his lips. “You tried, didn’t you?” Willow tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Do you need another taste of the Cruciatus Curse, or are you quite through?”

Willow stopped laughing, flinching at his words. She could almost feel the pain again, as he said it, and she shivered. Willow put the cheese to her mouth and began to nibble slowly, looking anywhere but at Tom. After a moment, she lowered her hands and swallowed the cheese, daring a short glance at Tom’s face. “You know… I could cook for you… Or something…” Willow said softly, playing with the paper wrap the cheese had been in. “It would be nice to be out of these chains for just an hour, a-and I could come right back when I’m done…”

Tom looked at Willow sceptically. “You wouldn’t try to run away?”

“No, of course not…” It’s not like I could, anyway. This blasted collar would kill me before I could get out the door, she thought grumpily.

“Beg.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said, beg. If you want to cook for me and get out of this room so badly, beg.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, we can do that in time, my pet, but for now, I just want you to beg.”

“Go to hell!”

“Only if you come with me.”

Willow growled, throwing the cheese at Tom. “Forget it. I would sooner die than beg anything of you.”

“If you insist…” Tom pulled out his wand and tapped it against his thigh, tilted his head to the side slightly, his subtle threat lingering in the room for a moment. He didn’t like the fact that as Willow’s eyes grew wide and her form trembled it made him want to take her into his arms and shield her from- well, from himself. He almost wanted to apologize, to put his wand away and undo her chains- but he stood strong. He was a proud wizard, and he would fight against every urge Willow gave him with all of his might. For now. “Have you changed your mind?”

Willow glared at the Dark Lord and said through clenched teeth, “Please, let me come out and cook for you.”

“Come, now, Willow. Say it with a little more heart.”

“Why, if I had my wand I’d-” Willow bit her tongue to stop from saying more. She turned her head away from Tom and tried to let her anger and frustrations melt away. She then said, in the most polite voice she could manage, “Please, my Lord, let me come out and cook for you.”

Tom grinned and waved his wand. The golden chain dissolved until all that was left was a thick gold band that stayed around her ankle. Tom left the room and made his way back upstairs, leaving Willow to find her way out of the darkness. She smiled when she reached the main floor and breathed in deeply. The air was fresh, the light from the evening sun shone in through the room. She hadn’t noticed how much time had passed, but it must have been at least a day, seeing as it had been evening when she’d left Hogwarts. Of course, it had felt much longer to her, being cooped up in the dark cell. Willow looked down at her bare feet, raising her brows when the light seemed to cause something on her anklet to flash in an odd way. She bent down and ran her hand over the surface of the gold, which she thought would have been smooth. When she felt rivets in the metal, she turned the thick band this way and that, trying to see what was on it. Her face lit up when she realized that her parent’s portraits were engraved into the gold. That’s right, she thought. This is still technically my locket, after all… just in a different form. Willow smiled when she realized that her parents must have been on the shackle as well. She still had them with her, at least.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked, looking back at Willow.

“Nothing, my Lord!” Willow shot up straight, dusting off her robes. “Just looking at your floors. They’re so filthy!” She exclaimed, hoping beyond hope that Tom didn’t realize that she had found something to bring her comfort in her new life.

Tom eyed Willow suspiciously, looking from her, to his floors. “If you’re trying to make more excuses for me to keep you up here, don’t bother.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Willow readily agreed. Anything to make sure he doesn’t take my parents from me, she thought.

Tom wondered why Willow was so quick to please him now, saying ‘my Lord’ every time she spoke, not complaining, or arguing with him, but he passed it off as her just being happy to be out of her cold, dark cell. Meanwhile, Willow was slowly forming an idea- something to help her get out, at least for a few hours. One look inside the fridge was enough to set her plan in motion.

“I’ll need to go shopping,” she said.

“What for?”

“For food, my Lord. You have none.”

“You are not leaving this house.”

“Please, my Lord. You can’t really transfigure something into food- it just doesn’t taste right. I will use my own money. You can have someone accompany me, if you must.”

Tom was a smart man. He knew that Willow was up to something- but she was right. There was no food in the house- except for wilted lettuce, dirty cheese that was still somewhere downstairs, and exploded chunks of frozen chicken that were still lying on the floor. “Fine.” He said with a sigh. He would rather go with her himself, but being the Dark Lord and all… it was best that he not be seen in public.

“Thank you, my Lord.” I just hope I can pull this off.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me! Yes, I realize Tom is a bit OOC sometimes, but don't you fret. He's just confused. He'll find himself ;)
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Set In Stone