Wraith Chpt. 46

Chapter Forty-six: Fissure




"There is nothing like the razor sharp tongue of a good friend to cut through the lies we tell ourselves."




"You're quiet, little ghost," Janesch commented, his eyes on the road before them. "All's well?"

"Well enough," Wraith murmured in reply. She gazed out the window at the blur of shadowed forest that they passed through.

Janesch glanced over at her, frowning slightly. As he watched, Wraith touched a hand to her lips as if in thought. A quick smile flashed across the vampire's face. "She kissed you again, didn't she?"

A slight flush came to Wraith's pale cheek. It was all the answer that Janesch needed.

"Did you like it?"

Her blush deepened. "It's not as though I've much to compare it to."

Janesch chuckled warmly and then blinked at a sudden thought. "But you do have something to compare it to," he said. Looking over at her again, he smiled wickedly. "Has someone else been stealing your kisses, ma petite?"

Wraith's blushed vanished as she paled at the question. Janesch's teasing smile disappeared just as quickly.

"Little ghost, what is it?"

Wraith was silent at first and Janesch wondered if she would answer at all.

"…What if I told you…that maybe you weren't as mad as I thought?"

"Oh, for certain we are all a little mad, ma petite, but what––Ah," he sighed as realized what she was talking about, "The Dark Lord."

Wraith closed her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. "You were right about one thing," she admitted quietly. "He did…consider marrying me himself."

"Did he?"

"But I was right too," she continued. "He won't."

"Once again, you sound so certain. He has kissed you, oui?"

"Once," Wraith replied quickly and then corrected herself, "…alright, twice."

"But still you think he does not want you for a wife?"

"He's considering sleeping with me, Vivaldi," Wraith all but snapped. "Marriage doesn't necessarily factor into that."

"Je suis désolé, ma petite," Janesch murmured. He reached over to touch his hand to hers briefly. "I am sorry."

Wraith turned her face away from him. "No, I'm sorry, Jan," she said softly. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just…" She couldn't finish the thought.

Janesch glanced at her, catching a glimpse of her expression in the reflection of the window. Without a word, he pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. "Ma petite, you are frightened," he said, his voice gentle.

Wraith did not answer, not trusting her voice.

Janesch reached for her, resting his hand upon her shoulder. "Ma chéri?"

"Janesch, I'm terrified," Wraith managed to whisper.

"Petite vierge," Janesch murmured with a soft laugh. "There is no shame is being afraid, especially when one has no knowledge of…well, le fait de faire l'amour." He brushed aside a lock of her hair and caught the shadows in her eyes. He felt as though his heart, though it no longer beat, had been twisted into a knot. "Unless," he whispered, "you've had a taste of that knowledge after all."

"Don't," Wraith whispered sharply, pulling away from him. "Don't say it, don't think it. It's not your business and I wish to god it wasn't mine either."

Janesch did not say it aloud, but he thought it nonetheless, unable to help it. For just a moment, red blazed across his vision and he longed to taste the blood of whoever had put that fear and hatred in the girl's eyes. Janesch breathed deeply, turning away from her, lest she see the bloodlust in his face.

"Does he know?" he asked when he trusted his voice again.

Wraith silently shook her head.

"And you aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Are you afraid of him?" Janesch asked gently.

"Yes and no," Wraith said with the ghost of a smile.

"But you are more afraid of the act itself, oui?"

Wraith nodded slowly. "Janesch," she murmured, "what…what if he reaches for me and I flinch? He would want to know why…and I cannot tell him."

"Why can you not?" Janesch asked her. "As possessive as he is of you, little ghost, surely he would––"

"No, Janesch," Wraith cut him off sharply. "I do not want him to know. Leave it alone."

There was a heavy silence between them then, until Janesch chose to break it. "Are you ready to return home?"

Wraith nodded. "I think so."

"Very well."




It was well after three in the morning when Janesch pulled his car to a stop in front of the Malfoys' gate. Wraith had changed back into her dress during the drive and felt a touch better for it. Neither she nor Janesch had spoken another word along the way.

For a long moment, they sat in the car in further silence. Then Wraith sighed and opened her door, slipping out of the car. Janesch followed a moment later and walked around the front of the car to face her.

He held out a hand, still not saying a word. Wraith hesitated and then took his hand, letting him pull her closer and wrap his arm around her.

"Je vous aime, little ghost," he whispered in her ear. "There is so much light beneath your shadow. I wish you would let yourself see it too."

"Thank you, Janesch," she murmured, pulling back. "Thank you for being my friend."

"Write me tomorrow, oui? No sulking allowed, little ghost."

Wraith smiled weakly and shook her head. "I'll write," she promised.

Janesch hesitated and then slowly leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Take care," he said, "and step carefully; I do not want you to get in trouble for tonight."

"I'll do my best."




Wraith slipped into Slytherin Manor as softly as a ghost, though she knew that the Dark Lord would have felt her return nonetheless. The silence that stained the halls was thick and suffocating after what she had left. Wraith prayed that Voldemort had learned what he needed from the prisoners, but something told her that those of the Order were not as easily broken as the traitorous Death Eaters had been.

Without thinking about it, Wraith climbed the stairs to her Lord's tower, rather than her own. At his door, she hesitated, wondering if she dared knock, but before she had decided, she heard his voice. "Enter." Wraith breathed deep and pushed open the door.

The Dark Lord sat behind his desk, which was still covered in books and scrolls. His red eyes flashed in the dim light of room as they came to rest upon her.

"Correct me if I am wrong, my Wraith," he said, his voice soft and low, "but did I not tell you that you were not to Apparate? Did I not tell you not to waste your power so?"

"You did, my Lord," Wraith whispered, still standing across the room from him. "I disobeyed you. I am sorry for it." She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. "I couldn't stay here."

"Come closer," he ordered.

Wraith crossed the room, not taking her eyes from his. In front of the desk, she stopped, hands clasped behind her back. Voldemort stood from his chair and walked around the desk to her. He did not say anything, but touched a hand under chin, lifting her face to the light.

"My Lord," she said softly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm so weak. Please forgive me."

"Where did you go?"

"I went out with Janesch," she admitted.

Voldemort let out a hiss of displeasure and released her. He turned away and Wraith wrapped her arms over her stomach.

"Such disobedience usually earns my followers a great deal of pain," Voldemort said, standing before the fireplace.

Wraith said nothing, but she stiffened, waiting for the pain she was so sure would come. But nothing happened. She looked over to him, unsurprised to see him watching her.

"I deserve the punishment, my Lord," she said hesitantly. "I will not argue that."

"That is good," Voldemort said, crossing back to her. "That is very good, my pet. But I will not drain you of magic to punish you. I need you strong, after all."

"Did she break, my Lord?" Wraith asked.

"Not yet," Voldemort said with a slight scowl. "But she will." He brushed her cheek, barely touching her skin. "Another price, I think, for your disobedience." He leaned down and Wraith lifted her face to his, letting his mouth brush against hers for a moment.

"Wait," she murmured. His eyes narrowed in irritation, but Wraith moved quickly to the desk. She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of it and held a hand out towards him. "You're too tall," she told him with the slightest smile.

Voldemort did not return the smile, but moved to stand before her. He put a hand on her waist and his face was suddenly so much closer. "Better?" she asked in a whisper, her lips just barely touching his.

"Better," he conceded. He kissed her again, slowly at first, as if he meant to savor the taste of her. Wraith felt a sigh escape her and thought once more that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be as bad as she thought. She touched her hand to his face and tilted her head, kissing him back despite her reservations. His mouth devoured hers in a heartbeat and Wraith wrapped her arm around his neck to keep her balance. She felt her breath catch and a small noise of surprise escaped her, but she did her best not to fight him. But when he pulled her closer still, almost crushing her to him, panic suddenly exploded in her chest and she felt herself go rigid in his arms.

I can't. I can't. I can't!

Voldemort felt her stiffen and pulled back, ire flashing across his face. The ire faded to a dark sort of curiosity when he saw the pure panic in her eyes. He tilted his head to one side and considered her. She was very determinedly avoiding his eyes. "Did I frighten you, pet?" the Dark Lord asked slowly.

"Yes," Wraith said simply, still gazing down at the floor.

He smiled darkly and leaned towards her once more. But he was stopped as Wraith pressed a hand to his chest, keeping the distance between them.

"I can't." The words escaped her in a rush, but she forced herself to look at him. "I can't," she repeated, "I can't give you what you want. I wish I could––"

"What stops you?" His voice was low and very nearly a growl.

"I can't tell you," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Voldemort grabbed her shoulder and forcibly pushed her down against the desk with a sudden sharp movement. Wraith gave a short scream as her head slammed against the hardwood of the desk. The Dark Lord kept her pinned there, looming over her. Wraith trembled beneath him, her eyes shut tight. Voldemort paused when he saw a line of blood at the corner of his Wraith's mouth. It took him a moment to realize that she was biting her tongue to keep from screaming further.

With a disgusted sigh, he released her, stepping away from the desk. Wraith lay still for a moment before she slowly sat up. Eyes still closed, she touched a hand to the blood at her mouth. She was still trembling.

"Get out."

Wraith winced at the anger and frustration in her Lord's terse words. Without a sound, she slipped off of the desk and ran across the room to the door, slamming it shut behind her.