The Lestrange behind it all {M.R.}

𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎

"He won't kill you, will he?" I asked, getting back into the car after her.

Abbigail smiled. "His order to me was to not have you leave this town, he said nothing about the fort."

"The fort?" I laughed lightly. "He calls it the fort?"

She shrugged, before leaning towards the driver. "Go to the coffee shop. That ought to be our last stop."

He nodded, and the car pulled away.

"Abbigail," I said as I turned to face her. "If I may ask; why did Mattheo recruit you?"

She had a simple small smile on her lips. "He recruited many of us, not just me."

"But why?"

She shrugged lightly, but I immediately knew something was off. "He had jobs for us, and we were more than willing to become his servants. We'd do anything to work for him."

"What is he doing now?" I asked, and I saw her glance at me. "Is he doing what his father did-"

"His father built armies to take over the world, muggle and wizarding. Mister Riddle does not want such things. He feels no need to take over something he knows will bore him in days. I mean, it sounds boring."

I couldn't help but snort at such a comment. Abbigail frowned slightly, watching me as I burst out into laughter. 

"What's so funny?" she asked in confusion. 

I looked at her, still smiling from my laughter. "He does not want 'such things'?" I laughed further. "Mattheo has wanted things like that since he was little - I'm completely sure. He's always wanted to be the boss of everyone and everything. There's no way he does not want to take over the world!"

Abbigail looked at me as she took in the information, before adjusting in her seat. "I mean... He was different then than he is now, isn't he?"

My smile softly faded, and I realized that she was right. Mattheo was different. He was much colder, but much meaner too. He had killed someone right in front of my eyes, mercilessly. I had hoped it was all an act, but hearing Abbigail defend the negative, my hope slowly started to falter. 

"Mister Riddle has changed, Belle. You should maybe keep that in mind."

She could clearly see how her previous words had effected me. She placed her hand on my arm, and my eyes met hers. Suddenly the thought of Mattheo somehow shifted away, and I saw the little Moarer sitting a couple of feet away from me at the dining table in the Great Hall. What had happened to her? 

After a couple of seconds of silence, I looked at her again. "You know a lot about him," I pointed out, grabbing her attention. "How so?"

Just as before, she seemed a bit uneasy, and she lied in a clear calm voice: "I've been around him the last couple of years - he's been training us since we left Hogwarts."

I frowned lightly. "You know more than you should, Abbigail."

She shifted in her seat again. "I told you, Belle. He's different. There's no secret in that."

The driver stopped at the café, and Abbigail didn't hesitate to get out of the car. Before I could touch my handle, The driver opened my backseat door, and waited for me to get out. Abbigail gave him orders that we'd be back in a while, and he just nodded, before staying put. 

"You never wore skirts and stuff like this."

Her eyes moved up to me as I sat down across from her at a table. "What?"

"Every time we wore what we wanted - Triwizard's Tournament, Hogsmeade, quidditch practices, extra classes - you always wore shorts or jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I don't think in the five years I knew you, you wore a skirt. Not even with your uniform."

I saw her visibly gulp. She then sniffled, and looked down at her menu. 

"And that dress is too short for someone who never even cared about how she looked."

Yes, it was not quite right for me to attack her like I was interrogating her, but the Abbigail Moarer I saw at school was not the girl who sat in front of me today. 

"Like I said," she spoke at last. "People change-"

"He makes you wear these, doesn't he?"

Her eyes darted up at me and they widened. Immediately I knew I was right, and she grew a guilty look on her face. 

"No," she lied, but this time I knew it because she scoffed afterwards. "He doesn't force anyone to do anything, Belle. He doesn't need to. We do it all willingly."

I frowned. "This isn't you, Abbigail. Something's wrong."

"What would you know?" she scoffed, closing the menu. "You haven't seen me in years. I can change easily."

I lowered my menu, but didn't say anything. I refused to believe that she had changed, even though it was possible. I used to dress slutty, and here I was - in a sun dress in a café.

We got brunch, which she paid for by muggle card. We were quiet, barely talking, except for ordering or thanking the waiter. 

When we got back to the car, and we were on our way back, I noticed how Abbigail seemed on edge. I remembered thew driver telling her something before she got in, but then I didn't think much of it. Now I was sure something had happened, but I wasn't going to ask her about it. I was going to avoid talking to her at all. She wasn't the Abbigail Moarer I knew, and I was sure Mattheo was the cause of that.

Back at Mattheo's house. Abbigail helped me unpack the bags, and guards carried it in. I felt royal, somehow.

While walking to my room - escorted by a guard of course - I glanced around the halls. My eyes then caught sight of the dining room we ate in, the door a screech open, and I saw a glimpse of someone arguing with guards. 

"Get your filthy hands off me!" he yelled. "What is this, Riddle? We had a deal!"

My jaw dropped open as I saw Draco shove off a guard. Just as I was about to call out his name, a guard wrapped his hand around my mouth, and Mattheo stepped in front of Draco, a wand in his hand.

"You want to kill me?" Draco scoffed. "I kept on your terms."

The guard pulled me away, and shoved me in my room. The door shut, and locked.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆