fox - r.lupin

- c h a p t e r - f i f t y -

edited.

______________________________________________________________________________

She literally had no idea how she pulled off her infiltration of the Dark Lord's little club, but she did it.

One moment, she was being shipped off to Paris, and the next moment, she had been shown to her room at a secure Death Eater location.

She vaguely remembered being questioned and her mind being penetrated by someone trained in Occlumency and was also a Legilimens. Other than that–her brain had blocked anything else from the process.

But she was here and successfully gave the Order information under the radar, so her lessons from Alastor and other Order members must have paid off.

But every day without fail, Violet walked around the dark headquarters–speaking in an impeccable French accent, showing off her tall, fake slim structure and golden flowing hair. She interacted with her fellow Death Eaters, spoke harshly to the House Elves (which she felt absolutely terrible about), and prayed that no one would see past her slightly tense persona.

And to her relief–no one seemed to catch on.

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing mulling around the dark location like a ghost–her guard always up thanks to Alastor's lessons.

Unfortunately, she knew that despite people being almost fond of her–someone was bound to see through her facade. And her crack in her disguise might come from the fact that she realised she was losing track of actual time.

Since arriving, Violet had no idea how long she had been there. It was near the middle to the end of September when she came. But once she had been indoctrinated into the lifestyle of all the Death Eaters, Violet's concept of time vanished into thin air.

But really–didn't everybody own calendars?

Apparently–not.

Her intense silver heels clicked across the manor's dark wood floor as she took a tiny stroll through the corridors.

It was slightly creepy because there was never much light–even though the drapes were open most of the time–and she also hadn't seen outside in months.

However–the job she was given was literally equivalent to a desk job.

She was assigned with tracking people from the manor with a charm she actually had created on the fly. And with it, Violet made sure to bring on a lot of attitude as the snotty French girl she was pretending to be.

She was surprisingly good at it. Violet just really leaned into how she watched Narcissa act at school and based it on that.

"So you're the new one they brought in..."

Speaking of a Malfoy...

Violet's first thought was to run. To hex the asshole and just leave.

But she didn't.

Violet steeled herself as she turned from the window she had stopped at–her body just lithely turned as her eyes fell on Lucius Malfoy's tall form.

"Who are you?" She snapped at him–looking him up and down, completely disinterested.

One brow rose on his pale face–his lip twitching–as he took another step toward her, "I am Lucius Malfoy. And you are?"

Going to kick your ass, is what she wanted to say–but instead, Violet lifted her nose slightly at him and replied, "Jaquelene Perriweather."

"Pleasure," He hummed in response, his eyes still glued to her face.