The Lost Lestrange

Chapter 1

"What do you think it'll feel like?" Desdemona asked, her curls cascading down as she hung upside down from the edge of her brothers bed, next to where he was sitting on the floor. She was a girl of 16, with dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to contrast quite strikingly with the darkness of her curly hair.

"It'll hurt," Dmitri said, "like a white hot branding iron to your arm. Like a thousand white hot branding irons to your arm... and I heard it itches like mad for days afterward."

"I bet it won't be that bad. You're just kind of a wimp."

"It probably will be and I can't see why you want one so bad." Dmitri pulled his sleeve down, as if already shielding the mark he'd yet to obtain.

It had been so long since Desdemona Dolohov had seen her brother and she'd been trying to get him to talk since he'd gotten home. He'd been avoiding the subject but she'd finally cornered him in his room. It had been almost a year and a half since Dmitri had been home, off doing Merlin knows what for their father before he was deemed ready to receive a mark of his own. All Desdemona had wanted to know was what it was like being with others who had already been marked, hardly a tough question to answer in her opinion.

"I want one because it'll mean something," Desdemona said simply.

"It'll mean you're another cog in the war machine," Dmitri said, "Hardly a place for a lady."

"You say that like I'm fragile... like some dainty porcelain doll."

"If you were a real lady, you would be," Dmitri said before Desdemona promptly punched him in the arm. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I say it because you're my sister and the battlefield is no place for women of any kind, fragile or otherwise."

"It is for one woman."

"She doesn't count, she's absolutely insane. She's also still in prison so, technically, she isn't even on the battlefield. See? No women."

"If she could before she got arrested, I can too," Desdemona said, rolling her eyes and standing from Dmitri's bed. "I've been begging mum and dad but I know they aren't even close to saying yes. They've always liked you more."

Ever since they were small, the favorite of their parents had always been obvious... and it wasn't Desdemona. Dmitri was the heir and she was just the second child... not to mention, she was a girl. Women never amounted to much in pureblood society. They were meant to be pretty wives while their husbands got to have all the glory.

"It isn't about them liking me more, it's about who is the heir to the Dolohov name. It's classic hierarchy in family politics. Can we drop the subject please?" Dmitri pleaded, "I haven't been home in so long and I'd prefer you didn't guilt trip me about Marks or favoritism. I'd like to enjoy my time at home."

Desdemona sighed, figuring her brother was right. He'd just spent a year and a half living every question she'd asked day after day. The last thing he wanted to do was relive it on his time at home.

"Sorry," she mumbled, rolling over on his bed to lay on her back.

"Miss Dolohov?" a timid voice called from the doorway. Desdemona turned, their house elf at the threshold.

"Yes, Impa?" she said impatiently, crossing her arms.

"Master and Mrs. Dolohov request your presence in the formal dining room."

Desdemona sighed, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she tried to figure out what she could have done this time.

"We'll talk more later," Dmitri said, "You should probably see what they want. Formal dining room's a big deal."

Des gave him a half smile before turning on her heels and walking out of the room, padding down the stairs before turning the corner and stopping at the threshold of the dining room where her parents were. They were sitting at the end of the long table they had their formal dinners on, talking in hushed tones. This couldn't have been good...

Des cleared her throat, catching her parents' attention.

"Desdemona... please sit down," her mother said gesturing to the chair across from her.

Des hesitated before entering the dining room and sitting down next to her father and across from her mother.

"What's this about?" she asked tentatively, looking back and forth between her parents.

"We've got something to discuss with you," Mr. Dolohov said.

"Pertaining to..."

"The Dark Lord."

Desdemona went quiet. She never thought this conversation would come. She figured that Death Eater business was more for the men than the women, who were meant to stay home and throw dinner parties and be pretty housewives. Des had hoped that this conversation would come someday. She'd never wanted to be the wife that stayed home. She sat up, fully attentive at what her father was going to say, careful not to get her hopes so high up.

"What about the Dark Lord?"

"It pertains to the Dark Lord and your future."

"What about my future?"

"You've expressed interest in joining the legion... multiple times... a day. And I've come to my decision."

"And that decision is?"

"Let me finish please, Desdemona," her father said, "There are big things happening this year regarding the Dark Lord and he's going to need as many loyal followers as possible when he returns. The Malfoys are considering having Draco marked when he comes of age in two years... or even before he comes of age. Your mother and I have decided that, since you'll be coming of age in the very near future, there may be a slight possibility that you may be able to join the legion."

Desdemona's smile slowly got wider and wider with each word.

"Of course, someone would have to convince the Dark Lord to let another woman join. Cygnus Black had to pull very many strings to let Bellatrix Lestrange into the inner circle.

"But just being considered is the greatest honor I've ever been offered!"

"There is... one other thing," her mother added on.

Desdemona's smile faltered. She had a feeling that this wouldn't be good. They sweetened the deal with the good news so the bitterness of the bad news wouldn't be noticed.

"What...?"

Her parents looked at each other before turning back to her.

"There's something we've been needing to tell you for quite a while and, now that you're almost seventeen, we figured it was a good time to tell you."