WHO: Theodora Travers and Lord Voldemort WHAT: Receiving her reward WHEN: Early morning, 14 March WHERE: Malfoy Manor WARNINGS: Drama
She didn’t expect anyone in Malfoy Manor but a House Elf, the Dark Lord and probably his creepily loyal snake to be up at 5:30am, but Thea had scrubbed her body of Keaton’s remains in the shower again and again and again before she tried to sleep. Rest wouldn’t come.
“Hello?” she called out uncertainly after the house elf left her alone in a darkened drawing room of Malfoy Manor.
Flames flickered to life in the fireplace across the room, shedding light on the Dark Lord sat in a chair beside it. As predicted, Nagini coiled around his feet and turned to face the newcomer, her tongue flicking out to test the air for danger.
But Voldemort showed no such signs of alarm, as if he’d been expecting her. “Miss Travers,” he said, rising from the chair. His voice was cold, devoid of emotion, despite the warmth of the fire and his greeting. “Welcome.”
Thea tried not to show her surprise. Had he been sitting in the dark waiting for someone to pop by this entire time? Did he only turn on the fireplace for dramatic effect?
Despite the flames flickering behind him, she shivered nonetheless. The Dark Lord knew her name. “My Lord,” she began, because ‘how are you this morning?’ seemed inappropriate. “I completed my assignment. Flitney is dead. And his chef, he was a witness, so…”
“Well done,” Voldemort said, a smirk flickering across his snakelike features. “I'm sure neither of them gave you any trouble.”
Thea thought about her own hesitation with Keaton, but shook her head all the same. “No. I disarmed them both before I killed them.” It felt strange to say those words herself.
“Did you enjoy it?” Nagini slithered beneath the Dark Lord’s chair as he took a step toward his newest follower. His sunken eyes met hers, but even then he seemed to be looking through her, replaying the memory of Keaton Flitney’s murder for himself.
She knew the answer she was supposed to give, but the way his eyes bored into her own told her not to lie.
“I — it was difficult to push past the instinct to not hurt him,” she confessed, squeezing her fingers into a tight fist to keep them from shaking. “But I found a way for it to be satisfying.”
“You’ll find it easier the next time,” he said with calm certainty. The first was always the most difficult, even for those who were prepared — even for those who relished it, as he did. “And your contribution to the cause will be rewarded.”
He took another step closer. “You’re ready.”
Thea’s ears pricked at the sound of a reward. What exactly did the Dark Lord think a reward was, because honestly, she was happy to take a bottle of merlot and call it a day if it meant avoiding exploding another body in a living room.
“I am,” she agreed, lifting her chin. She’d earned this. She’d prepared well for it. She’d succeeded. And He knew her name.
“Good,” he said, straightening his shoulders. He spread his arms, taking on a magnanimous pose as the flames roared behind him. “Together, we will preserve what’s left of the wizarding world and inherit the power that’s rightfully ours. You’re going to learn magic you never imagined impossible. You’re going to make your father proud, Theodora.”
“Now,” he said, extending a hand toward her. “Give me your arm.”
Thea did as asked, suppressing the desire to ask how he was getting the fireplace in sync with his monologue.
Cold fingers wound around her wrist as the Dark Lord uttered a serpentine incantation of his own creation. He touched the tip of his wand to her forearm and ink spread from it, creeping across her skin. When he withdrew, the mark was hers.