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Wraith Chpt. 42

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Chapter Forty-two: Closer Still




"Intimacy is being seen and known as the person you truly are."




Within a few minutes of the Dark Lord's departure, Wraith slipped out of bed, ignoring the headache that still pounded at her temples. She was choosing a dress when a hesitant knock came to the lower part of her door. Frowning, she answered it, her eyes gazing down to meet the terrified face of a house-elf. She gave him a small, but kind smile and stepped back so that he could enter.

"I'm sorry it's so dark," she told him, trying to coax him into speaking with her. She had missed Jiri and wondered if she might find a similar companion among the servants of Slytherin Manor.

The house-elf nodded at her comment distractedly and set about building a fire without a word. Warm light spilled out from the hearth a few minutes later and Wraith quickly closed her eyes against it.

"M-miss?"

"Hm?" Wraith slowly opened her eyes to see the house-elf staring worriedly at her. "Oh, it's nothing you've done," she told him swiftly, interpreting his expression. "I've a headache. I was using the dark against it, but…"

"Would Miss like some tea for the headache?"

"If you have something that isn't magic or potion that will work for me, I would very much appreciate it," she replied carefully.

The house-elf bowed his head and was gone with a loud cracking noise. Wraith blinked at the space he had been, wondering if she'd know that house-elves could do that.

While she waited, she finished choosing a dress and stepped behind her changing screen. When she heard another loud crack, she stepped back out into sight. The house-elf offered a steaming mug up to her.

"It's very bitter, Miss," he warned as she took the mug. "But it ought to help."

"Thank you," Wraith said sincerely. "May I have your name?" she asked him then.

He bowed his head once more. "Bede, Miss."

"It's good to meet you, Bede," she told him.

"Master ordered supper be brought up to you and he here," Bede said, cautiously looking back up at her. "But he didn't mention what supper he'd prefer. Does Miss have something she'd like?"

"Oh, whatever you think is best," she said absently. She took a careful sip of the tea and grimaced as she discovered how right the house-elf had been about the taste. Steeling herself, she swallowed half of the tea in one gulp, ignoring the way it scalded her throat. Making a face, she set the tea aside for a moment. "Nothing too rich," she corrected then.

"Yes, Miss," Bede said with yet another bow.

Wraith smiled slightly. "You can stop that, you know," she said gently. "You don't have to bow and scrape to me. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Bede blinked in confusion and then dared a smile of his own. "M-miss is…different," he said at last.

Wraith flashed him a grin. "Indubitably."

She straightened and looked around her tower room with a slight frown. She lifted a hand towards a blank part of the wall before she caught herself. Wincing at her own stupidity, she glanced at Bede again.

"Bede…could you find me a mirror? A full length one that would fit there?" she gestured to the space of wall.

"Of course, Miss," Bede replied, nodding quickly. "I'll check on supper and bring one up to you."

"Thank you, again," she said.




When Bede returned a quarter of an hour later, he had the mirror she'd requested, and company. Two others rather timid elves entered the room after him each carrying an item. One was levitating a chair similar to the other by the fire; another had a square table that he placed between the chairs. The one that had carried the chair in seemed to be female. She offered Wraith a timid smile as she bowed.

Bede gestured to the others. "Miss, this is Dax and Ells. Ells is my wife."

Wraith gave Bede a grateful look for the introductions. "It's good to meet you, at last. I know it's the mark of a good house-elf not to be seen, but please don't stand on ceremony with me."

The two nodded, but did not seem as convinced as Bede had been.

Ells bowed her head to Wraith. "Master will be here soon. I'll bring supper."

Dax followed her out without a word to Wraith, but Bede gave her one last smile before he left too.

When they were gone, Wraith moved to look in the mirror Bede had found for her. She frowned at her reflection, not entirely pleased with what she saw. Her cheekbones were more prominent than they had been before the battle just the day before, and there were deep shadows beneath her eyes. Pray that when another battle comes my Lord does not accidentally kill me, she thought rather bitterly.

Thinking back to the battle, she felt her head begin to pound again. As she reached for the rest of the tea, she remembered Neville's expression. I should have never helped him, no matter how vexed I was with Bellatrix. But was that really why she had helped him escape?

Wraith put a hand to her temple as if to still the thoughts whirling in her mind. "Focus," she told herself, looking back to the mirror.

The dress she'd chosen was similar to the one she'd worn yesterday, in that it had short sleeves that just covered her shoulders. The difference between them was that this dress's sleeves were sheer and had an empress waistline. The style seemed to suit her, she decided as she looked it over. Her hands shook slightly as she put thin lines of kohl around her eyes.

"There are a number of things we must discuss, my pet."

Wraith could only guess at what the Dark Lord wished to discuss with her, but remembering the last few times they had been alone together, she thought she had a good idea.

She felt her stomach twist into knots inside her and was horrified when she saw tears fill her eyes. She wished with every fiber of her being for some way to speak with Janesch. Surely he would know what to tell her. What happens if he reaches for me and I flinch? He'd want to know why and I can't tell him. For one horrible moment, she was caged again in that dark stone cell. She inhaled sharply and dug her nails into the palm of her hand, using the pain to snap herself back.

She sighed and stepped back from the mirror. Her eyes were dry again, thankfully. She'd resort to a touch of magic to keep them that way if she had to.

Her head whirled around when a small knock came to her door, but she knew before she opened it that it was only Bede and Ells with supper. The two elves set matching covered plates on the table near the fire, along with silverware and glass goblets. As they moved to leave once more, Wraith wrung her hands together.

"Ells?" she called hesitantly. "Can you help me with something?"

Bede and Ells shared a quick look before Ells nodded. She remained while Bede left. Wraith sat on the edge of her bed, still wringing her hands together.

"I don't know what the Master expects of me tonight," she told the house-elf, gesturing to her dress. "I'm not…supposed to use my magic for frivolous things for a little while. You house-elves have magic of your own, don't you? Will you help me?"

Ells blinked large eyes up at her. Then she smiled. "Be happy to, Miss," she said.




When the hour the Dark Lord had given her had finally passed, Wraith's dress had been altered more to her liking. The sheer sleeves were changed from black to blue and a ribbon of the same material ran around the empress waist. Ells had also tied a ribbon of sheer blue over Wraith's hair, leaving her black hair pulled back and hanging freely down past her waist, and dusted blue over the girl's eyes. Ells had left her with a kind smile, but it wasn't enough to still the panic that fluttered within Wraith's breast.

Alone with her alarm, she forced herself to sit in the second chair in front of the fire, though she desperately wanted to pace. She reached for the bottle of elf-made wine Bede had brought up and poured just a little into her goblet.

Unable to remain still, she stood, goblet in hand, and walked to the east window, pulling open the curtains and letting the dim moonlight to stream into the room. Staring out into the clouded skies, she drank down the wine as if to fortify herself.

A few minutes later, she felt him.

She turned away from the window and went back to the table, pouring herself more wine and also filling the other goblet. She settled back into the chair as her door opened.

And despite her fear, her nerves were buried beneath the wave of relief she always felt in his presence.

The Dark Lord paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of his Wraith.

She smiled just slightly and stood, stepping around the table to approach him. "My Lord," she spoke softly.  But despite the soft tone and gentle smile, Voldemort caught just the hint of impish humor in her eye. "…You're late."

"I thought you might say something to that effect," he retorted. He touched a hand to her hollow cheek. "You must be famished, pet."

Wraith leaned just slightly to his touch, her eyes closing briefly. "I'm fine," she whispered almost automatically.

"Come," Voldemort said, gesturing to the table. "I've never been one to waste what is before me."

A jangling chord of fear echoed across her heart. As the two sat and slowly began to eat, Wraith's mind began to whirl once more. Despite the fact that Bede had created a marvelous and delicious meal, she could not taste it.

"Your blood is the purest this world has seen for a thousand years, I am not keen to waste it."–– "If your Lord is so keen to see your blood well spent––Why doesn't he marry you himself?"––"…You don't care to be touched much at all––unless it's his hand that does the touching."––  

"You seem distracted, my pet."

Wraith blinked and lifted her eyes to his. "I'm only a little tired, my Lord." She pushed her plate away from her, for the most part untouched, and reached for her wine instead. Sitting back, she steeled herself. "You mentioned before that there were things you needed to discuss with me."

Voldemort gave her an even look over his goblet. "So to the point, pet," he said lightly. "You must be tired."

Wraith deliberately chose not to give one of her usual pert answers. Rather, she remained quiet, running a finger around the top of her glass, and waited.   

The Dark Lord considered her for long, silent minutes, before he too sat back in his chair. "The recent battle has shown me the need to be prepared," he told her. "With McGonagall and the others prisoners below, it is very likely that we will be able to track down a number of the Order's other hideouts."

Wraith nodded, for she knew all of this from the last night's meeting.

"So when we go to hunt them, we must be prepared," the Dark Lord continued. "You, my Wraith, must be prepared."

"My Lord?"

"You are to be more circumspect with your powers from now on," Voldemort told her. "At least until the Order is vanquished. I cannot have your power fail when I need it most."

"I am careful with my magic," Wraith said, her voice a little biting.

Voldemort smirked at the ire in his Wraith's eyes. "I know," he assured her. "I need you to be more so. Put plainly, my Wraith, I want you to continue as you have the last day or so. Use your magic only when you need it, and for nothing frivolous. I don't want you Apparating either; it takes too much from you."

Wraith frowned at that and leaned forward to argue. "My Lord, I have to Apparate to bring Janesch here. If you––"

Voldemort held up a hand to silence her, a scowl twisting his face. "Your…vampire will be given the location of the Manor so that he may continue to visit," he told her with a slightly bitter air.

Wraith sat back, not hiding her surprise. "…Thank you," she said softly. She took a sip of wine, wishing that her hand didn't shake. "I'll build my strength, my Lord. You have my word. I will be ready when you have need of me."

"I've no doubt of that," Voldemort said. "Your vampire is another thing we need to discuss, pet."

"Oh?" Wraith raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

"Is he aware…of what I intend for your future?"

Wraith flushed slightly, remembering her last visit with Janesch. "Of the vaguest plans, he is aware," she said, clearing her throat. Then she frowned at her Lord. "Why? Why should they concern him?"

"They shouldn't and I wish to keep it that way."

It took Wraith a moment longer than it should have. Then she laughed.

When Voldemort's eyes narrowed at her, she quickly hid her smile behind her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, the words slightly muffled by her hand and suppressed laughter.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," he said sharply.

"You ought to be, because the concern is ridiculous," Wraith told him simply. "Janesch is my friend. He is nothing more. And he never will be."

"You sound certain."

"I am certain," she said. "Dead certain." I can't stand this anymore. She took a breath as she poured a little more wine for the both of them. "It's funny," she continued lightly, "You might have been interested to hear our last conversation."

"Would I?" The Dark Lord's voice was low and rather dangerous.

Wraith glanced across the table at him before she stood, carrying her wine over to the window once more. "You remember the last time I brought him here?" she prompted. "…When you and I were so determined to be angry with one another?"

"I remember," Voldemort said shortly, wondering just where his Wraith was going with the conversation.

"That's when I told him," Wraith said, keeping her voice even, "of your plans for me. He did find it interesting, but not in the way you're determined to think." Before the Dark Lord could reply to that, she continued on, her eyes fixed upon her reflection in the window. "When I told him you didn't want my pure blood to go to waste…he wondered why you didn't marry me yourself."

The words finally spoken, Wraith dared a glance at her Lord. He was sitting perfectly still, his face a mask. When their eyes met, he asked, "And what did you tell him?"

Wraith turned slightly and leaned back against the window, her eyes now locked upon his face. "…I told him that you wouldn't consider it."

Voldemort slowly stood and crossed over to her. "Really."

"If the point is to not let my blood go to waste, then no, you wouldn't."

"Go on," Voldemort prompted.

"I told him that immortal men have no need for heirs."

The Dark Lord smiled just slightly and touched a hand to the ribbon in her hair. "That is true," he said. "I neither need nor desire an heir. All they would be to me is a future rival, after all. And frankly, my pet, an heir of mine with your power…is not an enemy I'd want to face."

Wraith smirked up at him. "Imagine the terror I'd be if I wasn't so very yours."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Voldemort agreed.

Wraith tore her eyes from his, gazing at the fire instead. "You said you had a gift for me," she reminded him, changing the subject.

"So I did," Voldemort replied, stepping back. His eyes never leaving her face, he reached into the pocket of his robes. "Turn around," he instructed, "and close your eyes."

Wraith's eyes narrowed rebelliously before she did as he'd told her, facing the window once more.

Wraith felt his hands around her neck and a moment later she felt cool stone against her skin. She opened her eyes and gazed into her reflection in the window, her mouth opened in shock.

Hanging around her neck was a rope of dark, smooth stones, which she belatedly recognized as hematite. She slowly reached up to finger the stones.

"It's beautiful," she murmured. Her head tilted to one side as she studied it. "What's it for?"

"It suits you."

She blinked and slowly turned to him. "Is that all?"

He gave her an even look. "Am I not allowed to reward my servants?" he asked in a low voice.

She smirked slightly. "I wouldn't dream of denying it of you."

"You so rarely ask for reward," he told her. "I've found that I must be creative when it comes to you."

She looked back to the window. "I don't serve you for reward."

"I know," Voldemort said. "It's what makes you the most deserving of reward out of all of my servants. Say 'thank you', pet."

"Thank you," she repeated, her smirk growing.  

"Besides," Voldemort said, reaching around her to run his hand across her collarbone, "It's September now. Your birthday has passed. If you truly need a reason for the gift, we'll use that."

Wraith smiled and laughed softly, meeting his eyes in their reflection. "I'd forgotten," she whispered. "I suppose that means that I'm eighteen now."

"It does," Voldemort said, leaning his head down closer to her hair. He took in her soft scent and sighed distractedly. "You were wrong, you know," he told her then.

"About?"

"I did…consider it."

His other hand came around her waist, drawing her back against him. Wraith felt her breath leave her in a rush and cursed her racing heart––and yet she lifted a hand to the arm around her shoulders, accepting the embrace.

"…But?"

"But," the Dark Lord confirmed softly, "you were very right about why I won't marry you. I need your bloodline extended beyond you for future years. You will not live forever, my Wraith, though you will live a long time. Someday, I will need your replacement."

The words chilled her deeply and she quite suddenly felt caged within his arms. Inhaling sharply, she carefully pulled away from him and walked back towards the table. She gulped down the last of her wine before setting the goblet on the table's surface. She rested her palms on the table for several moments and then very slowly turned back to him. He had remained at the window, though his head turned to follow her movements. Eyes still on him, she stepped away from the table.

"…What do you want from me?" she asked him simply.

Copying her movement, he stepped away from the window and towards her.

"I'm still trying to decide," he replied.

He reached out and lifted her face towards his. She stood very still. When he leaned just slightly closer, Wraith tilted her head up voluntarily and slowly closed her eyes.

His mouth just barely brushed hers at first, as if he were tasting the remnants of the wine upon her lips. Then he deepened the kiss, breathing in the scent of her as if to memorize it. Her lips were soft and unresisting, if hesitant, as she returned the kiss. But when her lips parted in invitation, Voldemort pulled back. When her eyes opened to meet his, he read the trepidation and slight confusion within them. He smiled just slightly and ran the tip of his tongue over his own lips.

"Well," he murmured pensively.

Wraith said nothing––she could think of nothing to say in any case––and waited.

"This requires thought," the Dark Lord said at last. "Unfortunately." He touched her lips with a fingertip, tilting his head to one side. "The benefits may well outweigh the risks…but the risks remain."

"Risks?" Wraith repeated in a confused whisper.

"There is no potion, no charm that guarantees against conception; they only discourage it. And frankly, if such a thing happened…I don't think I could actively murder a fellow descendent of Salazar Slytherin."

Wraith felt herself pale and her mind went blank. Voldemort laughed darkly at the expression on her face.

"No worries, pet," he said slowly, leaning towards her again.

This time when he pressed his mouth to hers, she kept her eyes slightly open. His hand went around to the back of her neck, holding her still. She brought her hand up to his face and moved just a little closer to him. He pulled back again and saw just the glint of dark humor return to her eyes.

"You'll let me know when you decide then?"

"Pet, you will be the first to know," he told her, stepping back from her. "We'll continue this another time."

"At your convenience, my Lord," Wraith said with a twist of her lips.
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! :deep breath: HA! Also, long chapter is long. I didn't want to end it. ;) And TRUST ME, this is only the beginning of the twisted weird places this story will take you! ...don't kill me. :D



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Harry Potter & Characters © J.K. Rowling
Wraith © T. M. Zai
© 2010 - 2024 TMZai
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Ravens-Death's avatar
this chapter just made me label voldemort as PEDO!