Fatal Affair

Chapter 8: The Mark

Nova spent the rest of the weekend avoiding Lucius and Bellatrix. She ate dinners in her room and only left to use the washroom. On the eve of Sunday, Narcissa returned and Nova dreaded what Bellatrix might tell her. 

Nova sat at the long dining room table, awaiting another meeting to start. She was the first one there, eager for it to end before it had even begun. Lucius walked into the room and sat across from her. They held each other's gaze, speaking without words. Concern etched across Nova's features. 

"She doesn't know," Lucius mumbled quietly. "You can stop worrying." 

"But Bellatrix-" 

"Will say nothing. Wipe that expression off of your face before they come in." 

Nova tried to relax her features, but the moment Narcissa and Bellatrix walked in, her heart started hammering in her chest and she knew her face returned to looking concern. 

Lucius threw her a threatening glance.

"Nova," Bellatrix acknowledged. "Did we miss anything entertaining?" She looked between Nova and Lucius. 

"Nothing at all," Lucius said. 

"Why so tense, Nova?" Bellatrix smirked. 

Before she could say anything, more Death Eaters entered the room. Eventually, almost all seats were filled and Voldemort came in and took his usual seat at the head of the table, nearest Bellatrix. 

He gazed at his followers through slits in his eyes, his stare menacing and cold. Most followers looked away, afraid to be called upon, however Bellatrix gazed back at him in awe. 

"It is time," Voldemort began, his voice raspy but clear, "to act. I am growing tired of waiting around." Voldemort paused. "Bellatrix," Bellatrix's eyes snapped up to her master, "are you ensuring our newest prisoner is being taken cared of?" 

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix bowed her head and met his gaze. 

"Is he finally ready to speak?" 

"Not yet, My Lord, but I believe he will crack soon. I will torture him until he does." 

"Careful, Bellatrix," Voldemort warned. "We do not want him dead. Yet." 

"Yes, My Lord, of course." 

Nova briefly recalled the wandmaker they brought into the dungeons a month or so ago. She tried to push away the memory of his limp body, the screams that came later that night. 

"Nova," Voldermort's cold voice called. Nova's body jerked in alertness, aware of all the eyes focusing on her. It was the first time Nova had been addressed by Voldemort since Severus introduced her as a follower. Her ears burned and her heart skipped a beat. 

Severus entered the room and took a seat next to Nova. "Apologies, My Lord," Severus said. "I was gathering intel on Draco's plan, however to no avail." 

"Very well, Severus," Voldemort said. "I am glad you are here. I was just about to address our newest member, Miss Harrison." 

Severus glanced at Nova, who appeared terrified, and back at Voldemort. "Of course, My Lord. Please continue." 

"Nova," Voldemort repeated her name and bile rose in Nova's throat. "You are loyal, are you not?"

"Yes, Sir," Nova spoke in a shaky voice. She swallowed, trying to push down her fear and gain courage. 

"You are devoted to me, are you not?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Will you do anything for our cause, Nova?"