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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
- 6
- 7
CHAPTER SEVEN

A Day of Sacrifice

Willow’s eyes fluttered open. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold- freezing, actually. She drew her leg’s to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to conserve her body heat. The second thing she noticed was that she was still in the bathroom, lying naked on floor. How long had she been there, unconscious and wet? The third and final thing she noticed was the mark that spread over the entire length of her forearm. Willow paled at the sight of it. Last she remembered, the searing pain of the Cruciatus curse had been searing through her, and then everything went black. Bite marks, scratches, bruises- those meant nothing. They would fade with time, leaving behind nothing. But the mark- the mark of her master- was permanent.

Crying out in anger, as well as humiliation as she realized how very weak she was, Willow tried to rake her nails across the mark. She didn’t want it, didn’t want the constant reminder that she was his. Ignorance truly was her only bliss at this point in her life, and it was hard to ignore the horrific mark that now marred her skin, that tainted her. The sharp pain as she clawed at her arm in an utmost animalistic manner pleased her, until she realized that, though the pain was indeed there, it was on the wrong arm.

Shakily, she lifted her hand to see that the Dark Mark was unmarred. Blood dripped down her right arm and, as it fell onto the mark, seemed to soak into her skin, as if the mark was feeding off of her pain, her suffering. Fear and awe filled her as she shifted her gaze from her left arm, to her right. There, four deep, jagged cuts sat, blood gathering slowly in the wound before spilling over either side of her arm and onto the crisp white floor. How had he done it? What kind of magic had the Dark Lord fused into her arm? Would the magic fade, as most curses did, or would it stay within her until the day the evil man died?

Frustrated and scared beyond believe at the things that were happening to her, Willow sat up, wincing as a fresh wave of pain rippled through her. She pressed her hand to the scratches in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. As she sat there, exhausted, the hopelessness of her situation seem to crash down on her. Tears streamed down the pale, almost sallow flesh of her cheeks. What was the point of pretending anymore? Bravery, courage- it was a front, an act. How could she be brave in the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort? How could she be courageous when she ate, slept, and breathed under the same roof as a murderer?

She was a fool for thinking that she could find Tom again, hidden somewhere deep within the heart of the new, nefarious man he had become. The brief glimpses of him- in a tear, or in the way he seemed to pause every time he caught her eyes- were not enough anymore. They were too few and far between to give her comfort now. Even if she could somehow manage to bring Tom to the surface, it would not last long enough for him to see reason. His very being vibrated with the contaminated, malicious power of the Dark Lord. If Willow wanted to escape with her life, she would have to be clever about it. But how could she be clever when fear clouded her mind like a thick fog that would never dissipate? Again, it came down to bravery, and courage. She knew that she had them, and in abundance. Thirty-three years on the run had given her at least that much. Where had it gone? It seemed to come in bursts. Sometimes, during her masquerade of the emotions, she could actually feel them take root. Mostly, they came when the Dark Lord’s requests combated with her stubborn nature, her pride, like they had when he’d asked her to beg. She’d been brave then.

You have fought through your fear millions of times, she thought to herself as she shifted herself backwards, lifting her now blood-soaked hand to turn the tap and allow the water to run. Again, she was struck by how cold it was. Once it had warmed, she shifted her wounds directly under the spray, emitting a low his at the burning pain. As gently as she could, Willow washed the blood from her skin. When it was gone, she shifted herself wholly under the stream of water and tilted her head up, almost managing a smile as she felt it wash over her face.

When the water stopped, Willow was barely able to stop herself from crying out in fear. As Tom approached her from behind, she cringed, courage and bravery once again stepping just out of her reach. I am no Gryffindor, she thought as the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She was a Ravenclaw. That’s right, she thought. You are a Ravenclaw. You are creative, and intelligent, and you will find a way out. You always do.

“I see you tried to destroy my work,” Tom said, the sneer clear in his voice. “Do you believe me to be such a fool that I would not think of that?”

“Of course not, my Lord. I didn’t think of that… I just wanted it gone.”

“Ha! Insolent girl! That mark is a reminder to those who wear it that they are my pawns, the tools I use to get what I desire. Everyone who wears that mark belongs to me. You are just another insignificant gear in the clockwork of my plan. You can be replaced.”

“Is that why you spent so long searching for me? So that you could replace me when you saw fit?”

“I wanted you to feel my pain!” Tom roared, making Willow flinch. Tucking to fingers under her silken collar, Tom lifted his newest pawn to her feet and pulled her face to his, so that she could feel the chill of his words against her skin. “I want your beautiful suffering,” he hissed, licking his lips as if he could taste her fear. “I wanted to love you, I really did. I thought that you would be that one person who could set my heart on fire. But I feel NOTHING! My whore of a mother saw to that!” Tom withdrew his hand and watched her slump to the floor, her legs far to weak to support her own weight. “I want to feel what everyone else feels! I want to feel remorse when I kill, and guilt when I lie! I want my heart to break when you tell me you don’t love me. All I ever feel is anger, and hatred!” Tom paced the length of the bathroom, and Willow took that time to look over him. All he wore was a crisp pair of black trousers. The sound of his bare feet hitting the wet floors echoed through the small room, and his chest heaved as he tried to control his anger. “I hate you, because you have what I want, and I can’t take it from you.”

Tom stopped pacing, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “But that won’t matter. When I rule over both the magic and muggle worlds, what good will emotions be? All I need is power, and in that I am wealthy beyond compare. Once I own everything this pathetic world has to offer, I won’t need love.”

“Even if you own the world, it will never be enough-”

“SHUT UP!”

Willow gasped as an invisible force struck her, sending her back against the tiled wall. Her head hit the wall with a resounding smack, and she groaned. The room began to spin before her eyes, and she felt her stomach lurch. Raising a trembling hand to feel the bump that had already started to form, Willow looked at Tom. He was losing control over his magic in his anger. As strong and accomplished as he was, magic that fed off of anger was the hardest magic to control, just like anger was one of the hardest emotions to control. Tom had no control over his anger- he turned his anger, and thus the magic that fed off of it on anyone he felt deserved it.

“Have you tried taking a potion?” Willow asked, the answer obvious to her. If he wanted to feel the emotion, all he needed to do was take a harmless potion. Hell, she could even brew it for him.

“How dare you even suggest that?” He growled, his fingers tightening around his wand. “My mother fed that poison to the filthy muggle I’m named after to make him love her. She was as cunning as any Slytherin, of course, but she was stupid beyond compare. That potion is the reason I am like this. She forced him to love her, and when she let the effects of the Amortentia fade, he left her and I to die. What she didn’t know was that a child conceived under the effects of the Amortentia potion may be born scarred. Not visibly, of course, but in their minds. Imagine, if I had have been born proper, we might be in a much different situation.

“Alas, I was not. Unfortunate, really, for you.” Tom smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ll never have the family that you want.”

“You saw-”

“Don’t act innocent, you conniving witch! You forced those images into my head!”

“When?! When I was shackled downstairs for three whole days, without food, with barely any water? I’m too weak to do any magic, much less without my wand!”

“Have you seen them in your visions, or are they just some fantasy you have?”

“That would have been our life, if I had stayed. We could have worked through your problems, found a way… maybe having me there, having someone who finally cared about you helped you. Maybe you could love, maybe you can… I don’t know.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Willow.”

“Elliot saw it. That’s why I never came back- he saw me happy. Gaela aren’t meant to be happy, we’re meant to live long and lonely lives. We aren’t meant to be lucky. He was jealous of what I could have, so he took it from me, telling me I would die if I went back. He saw it! And Kitranthia showed-”

“Kitranthia?” Tom hissed, his voice laced with poison. “I should have guessed,” he seethed, again pacing the room. “Then it’s true. That could have been us?” For a moment, a hint of longing shone in Tom’s eyes, but it was shattered as his anger came crashing back down, crushing every other emotion. “You took away any chance I ever had at being happy because some lunatic liar told you that you were going to die?”

“I didn’t know he was lying, I was a child-”

“You were NOT!” Tom growled, halting his steps and turning sharply to face her.

“Yes, Tom, compared to Elliot, I was. Though maybe I did not think like a child, I still feared like one, looked like one, and felt like one. I knew that Elliot was my best hope. The light at the end of my tunnel. He was my freedom from running, from orphanages, and he could protect me. He knew what I was! You don’t understand how much I needed that, needed to be guided by one of my own kind. Sure, his reasons were awful, but he taught me everything I know about being a Gaela. I couldn’t have stayed, Tom! Do you think Mrs. Cole and Martha would have accepted me? They were trying to get me in to see a doctor before I left- you don’t understand how dangerous that is for me! And then I saw everything. I saw you come back from Hogwarts, how you looked for me, as if I were just playing hide-and-seek. I saw you kill your father, and those other two muggles there. I saw you placing a locket on an island surrounded by a pool of the dead. I saw what you would become without me, and I desperately wanted to go back.”

“Couldn’t you have seen for yourself whether or not you would live?”

“I was not as gifted with the Sight then, and after Elliot took me in and taught me how to use it properly, I never thought to question it. Not until I met Kitranthia. That’s why I went to see Elliot, when he… when he tried to kill me.”

“And what do you see of your future now?” Tom asked. Her ability to see the future had always been something that amazed him.

“Nothing I like.”

“Your death?”

“Among other things…” Willow looked away from then, unable to look into the eyes of the man who would torture her for the rest of her life. She had no idea how long that would be. Her visions never gave her an exact time and date- those she had to guess. In the vision of her death, Tom’s hair was streaked with more grey than usual. She knew then, that it would be a while until he killed her. Possibly a few years. She didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not. Did she want to be tortured for years, or would she rather just die, there and then, and never have to feel the sting of the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus again? Surely, she could anger him enough for him to want to kill her. There was one vision in particular that gave Willow pause. It was of a girl, with long, needle-straight and nearly black hair, with bright green eyes, as well as something willow had never noticed before- a bright streak of silver in her hair.

Thalia.

Willow had been seeing her for quite some time now, she just hadn’t realized it until Kitranthia had used her vision to bring forth her desires. At first, Willow’s visions of the girl had been blurry- as if she was there, but not. When she’d left Hogwarts and Tom had wrapped his arms around her, when she knew he had her, the vision became stronger. With every day she’d spent with the Dark Wizard, the vision became more and more focused. It had never been perfectly clear, though, until then. Willow could see it as if she were actually there. Willow thought she could hear Tom talking, but she blocked out his works and focussed on the vision. It wasn’t a particularly long one.

Thalia just stood there, hands shaking, with Willow’s own wand in her hand. Willow could hear herself speaking.

“You remember what mommy taught you, Lia? You need to do it now, quickly, before he finds us.”

“What about you?” The child asked, tears flowing freely down her soft, round cheeks.

“I will always be with you. You are my grace, and my muse, just as your name states. Remember that no matter where I am, I will always love you.”

“What if I forget what to do?” She asked, the fear in her voice making Willow’s heart ache.

“You won’t, my love. You are strong, beautiful, and brilliant. Never forget that, and you’ll always know what to do.” Upon hearing a disturbance in the other room, Willow took her daughter’s face between her hands and pressed a frantic kiss on her forehead before giving the child a gentle shove. “Run, Thalia!” She whispered urgently. “Run, and don’t you ever stop!”

The girl nodded, almost screaming when the door of the room they were in shook. “I love you, mommy,” she whispered, before pressing the wand to her temple and muttering an incantation. The form of the girl disappeared, and it her place was a fox cub. The fox, Thalia’s Animagus form, had a thick coat of fur that consisted of four distinct colors. Orange was the majority, covering her ears, the tufts around her neck, as well as her sides, her hind legs, and the underside of her tail. Her front legs, stomach and most of her face where a silky white, as were the insides of her ears and the bushy tip of her tail. Black fur covered her back, as well as her tail, and the rest of her face, mixing with the orange and white fur. It was almost as if the fox had ran through a coal mine, and the dust had settled over her fur. Lastly was two defined streaks of silver that started from the tips of her ears before combining into one, thicker streak, that ran town the length of her back, disappearing into the white tip of her tail. The fox closed its mouth over the wand before turning towards the back wall and shooting into the small whole that led outside. Just as the fox’s thick tail disappeared through the wall, the door burst open in a flash of green, and he was there.

“Tom-”

“You’re very good, Willow. Nearly Twelve years, I’ve been looking you! You will never see the light of day again!”

Willow blinked, bringing her hand up to gently rub her forehead. What did this mean? That vision had always seemed as if it were in the middle of a blizzard, and occasionally the snow fall would slow enough to let her catch a glimpse. It was so, so clear now. She knew that the more likely a vision was to come true, the stronger it was, only taking a solid form once it was all but set in stone. Willow’s hand fell to her mouth as she realized what it could be- what it had to be. She looked down at her bare stomach. It had only just happened, but that was all it took. One event to solidify or destroy the future. Willow moved her shaking hand from her mouth, to her stomach.

She’s in there, she thought, tears building in her eyes before spilling over and streaming down her cheeks. She needed to get out more than ever now, for the sake of her daughter. It had only been a day, but Willow knew without a doubt that she was pregnant. Thalia was real now. She was going to exist- Willow just had to make sure she had the chance. The future obviously believed that she had a pretty good chance of escaping, or it would not have given her the vision. All Willow had to do was wait for the right moment.

“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” Willow heard Tom hiss as he drew nearer to her.

“I’m sorry, my Lord. It’s hard to think when I’m so hungry,” she replied. She found that her words were actually true- it was hard for her to think of anything other than the constant rumbling in her stomach- especially now that she knew she would have someone else to feed soon.

“You called me Tom twice during your little rant, but now you call me your ‘Lord’ because you want something from me.” Tom scoffed, shaking his head. Did she really think he would fall for that a second time? “You fake your compliance. When you call me your Lord, I want you to mean it.”

“You are not my Lord, and I will never mean it,” she snarled, inwardly groaning at herself for it. That was no way to act when she needed to eat for the sake of her child.

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to earn your meals in another way.”

“And what would that be?”

“Surely a Ravenclaw would be able to uncover a double-entendre when it was presented to her?” Tom raised his brow, a seductive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Willow’s eyes widened as she realized what he was getting at. “Are you mad? I can’t stand on my own two feet, let alone ‘earn my meals’. I am in no state for that.”

“Then you must not be all that hungry.” Tom turned on his heel and left Willow alone in the bathroom.

“Damn him!” When she was certain that he was out of hearing range, Willow let out a slew of curses that would make her parents turn in their graves. “He wants me to act like some common whore!” Willow sobbed, burying her head in her hands. When it came down to it, it was either her pride, or the life of her daughter. Which was more important to her? The answer was obvious. Her daughter would be- no, was- infinitely more important than her pride. ‘But do I really want to raise my daughter into this? A live always afraid, a life on the run?’ Willow shook her head as her thoughts ran wild. Her life was over- though she knew it wouldn’t be fore some time, she knew she would die. Thalia could have a chance, could change her fate, live the life Willow always longed to.

Willow’s face set with determination, and she crawled across the still wet floor, careful not to slip. She used the knob on the bathroom door to slowly pull herself to her feet. She felt bruised both inside and out, and it was hard not to let herself fall back to the floor and cry, defeated. The Gaela pressed on, leaning heavily against the wall for support, slowly but surely making her way to the living area, where she was sure the Dark Lord would be. All the while, she dreaded what she would have to do for him. He had taken her freedom, taken her body, her virginity, and now he was going to take her pride. Willow was sacrificing the last thing she had for a life that hadn’t even started yet. She was already slipping into the role of a protective mother. She would become a slave to the Dark Lord so that she could give her everything to her baby when the time came.

Eventually, Willow reached the end of the hallway. The living area was just around the corner. Just a few more steps, and she would be there-

“-stubborn little Gaela bitch given into you yet, my Lord?”

Willow froze. The Dark Lord wasn’t alone, and she didn‘t recognize the voice of the man with him. She gulped and pressed her back flat against the wall, breathing deep, quiet breaths. She knew she would probably be punished for eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help it. They were talking about her, obviously. It made her smile slightly, knowing that Tom spoke of her as being a stubborn bitch. You bloody well bet I am, she thought, Though I suppose not for much longer. Would he still consider her stubborn when she gave into him? She doubted it. Instead, she would no doubt be known as his ‘compliant half-breed whore’.

“Of course she has, Cygnus. No witch can resist the Dark Lord’s power.” That was Abraxas- no doubt trying to suck up to the Dark Lord after his ‘incident’.

“She did not give in,” Tom growled, anger seeping into his voice. “I took her by force.”

“As good a way as any, my Lord, to teach a woman her place.”

A third voice. His words set Willow’s veins on fire, a hatred for the man quickly settling in. If she could show him his place, she would do it without a second thought. I would chain the bastard in hell, she seethed.

“Mmm. I’m not so sure she got the picture. Did you, Willow?”

Willow’s breath caught in her throat as she heard Tom’s low tenor call out to her. He knew she was there. She couldn’t very well walk away. Slowly, she turned the corner, still using the wall to support herself. Tom’s eyes were instantly on her, the other three pairs of lecherous eyes soon following. She wanted very badly to cover herself up, but if she removed her hands from the wall, she would undoubtedly fall over. Instead, she shook her hair out in front of her, making her hair fall over her breasts, covering them almost completely.

“That only makes you even more appealing, pet,” Tom chuckled darkly, his eyes bright with excitement. “Are you having second thoughts about my proposal? Come, and we‘ll see if you can earn that meal.”

Oh, Merlin. Why did those men have to be there? She really didn’t want to do this in front of them. But she was already there, exposed. If she didn’t go to him now, what would he do to her later? Or would he drag her out and have his way with her in front of his Death Eaters? Neither option pleased her. Slowly, she shifted forward, shifting her weight onto the back of a high-backed armchair. A man with thick, scraggly black hair sat there. As she came around to the arm of the chair, he made no attempts to hide what he was doing, openly looking at her mound of curls. She was sure that he was the one who had spoken about ‘teaching a woman her place’.

She had to walk past him to get to Tom. It was uncomfortable- she felt so vulnerable. She would have nothing to hide behind. All four men would be able to stare at every inch of her, once she came around the chair fully. She did so very slowly. Now that she had nothing to support her, she had to take extra caution as to not fall. Her legs wobbled as she moved. Mostly from pain, but partly from the sheer embarrassment. They were all still staring, unabashed and unabated, as if it were their divine right to gaze at her. The only thing she wore was the thick, gold band on her ankle.

At the feel of a rough, calloused hand grazing over her rear, Willow shrieked in anger, and swung her hand back, catching the scraggily-haired man across the mouth before falling back onto Tom’s lap.

“You filthy little harlot!” The man rose as if to strike her back, but Tom shot him down with a look of bitter fury.

“You will not touch my things, Orion.”

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Orion bowed before he sank back into the chair, fear plastered on his face.

Tom’s face switched back to cold indifference as he trailed his fingers over Willow’s naked back. She was slumped against him, her back to Abraxas, and the other man, who must have been Cygnus. Willow was glad that it was just a small gathering, and not Tom’s entire group of followers. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Tom shifted her so that her back was against his chest, and then brushed her hair away from her breasts, giving the men a full view of her bruised body. “There isn’t a single place on her body where I have not marked her.” Tom reached down between her legs, and Willow whimpered audibly, the four men laughing together at her discomfort. Tom forced her legs open, settling one on either side of his lap. “I was a bit surprised to find that the curtains did indeed match the drapes.”

Willow had never felt more humiliated in her life. It was like she was a piece of art on display, there for the personal viewing pleasure of the three men as Tom went over every single stroke of his brush he’d used.

“She hasn’t eaten in days, so she’s rather weak-willed at the moment. I doubt it will last long. I do enjoy her bite, but it’s quite nice to be able to relax like this…” Tom busied himself prodding his finger over every one of her tender bruises, his arousal growing with each of Willow’s small, pained gasps. “Perhaps I should feed you less often,” Tom mused, knowing it would get a rise out of the girl.

“Please, my Lord, I wish to pleasure you properly, I long to be fully awake when you take me.”

Tom knew it was a lie, but it didn’t stop the pleasure her words caused him. She was being a good little girl in front of his minions, and he would have to reward her- even if it was only a show. She was smart, she knew what he liked, and that she would play on that pleased him to no end. Eventually, he would make it so that she could say those words with conviction. When it got to the point that she knew what he wanted, and truly wanted to give it to him- then he could say he’d truly succeeded in having her, body, mind, and soul.

Tom’s hands ceased their tirade and settled on Willow’s thighs. “We’ll have to continue our conversation on another night,” he told the men while he nipped at Willow’s neck. “I’ve a pet in need of some training.”

The three men nodded and stood, bowing before they each disapparated with three, loud cracks.

“One day, you’ll mean those words,” Tom hissed into Willow’s ear. He slid his arm under the crook of her knees, his other tightly under her arms, and stood, lifting her up with him as he did, and carried her off to his bedroom.

I seriously doubt that, she thought.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading my story. I've edited this chapter so many times... the format keeps messing up...

To my anonymous reviewer, I'm glad that you're enjoying my story, and I hope that you continue reading. I promise more smut ;)

To slytherinposessed, I hope I reassured you that, while tom is struggling with his emotions, he isn't going to go soft. EVER. :D

Thanks again to my readers!
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Set In Stone