A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 7 - A Candelabrum

 A bath has never felt this pleasant before. After the meeting in the dining hall, the girls were escorted upstairs, and their hands were freed from their invisible bounds. After a few minutes of strolling through the hallways, they were finally free to have some privacy in their new bedrooms.

The rooms were almost identical, a bedroom decorated luxuriously with a way into a private bathroom. The feeling of being alone in a warm bedroom was unbelievable after a week spent in cold and humid cells in the dungeons of that Manor. Were the Death Eaters enjoying all this luxury while they had to use the water they were given to wash their faces and hands for at least a shred of that clean comfort? Being denied basic human needs was a way for Riddle to make them more lenient in accepting anything he offered just to feel comfortable in their own skin again.

Would they ever be comfortable in their skin again now? The matter of the question is not a bath or new fresh clothes, that also were provided for each one of them, but would they ever feel comfortable with themselves after accepting such a cruel and dangerous offer from Riddle? Some of them would brew potions the Dark Lord would use to get the information he wants, to poison, to deny healing. Some of them would use the ancient relics that possessed the unknown Dark Magic Tom wanted to get under control. Some of them would be used as a tool to do his dirty work for him, whenever he wanted to erase someone's name from the living registry he would know who to order it.

The women were met with a similar-looking box waiting for them on their beds. It contained a fresh set of clothes, some necessities and bathing soap. The amusement it would've caused earlier was nowhere to be seen on their faces now. It would've been entertaining to imagine the 6 men who called themselves Death Eaters, choosing what box to put flower-scented soap in.

Everyone but Dirca was presented with their personal bedrooms, she was to share the room with her husband who wasn't there when she was shown to his room. She looked around taking in his personal space that was now theirs, the clustered desk by the window, a neatly made bed, a wardrobe only half full of his clothes, the other side belonging to her now. Coming over to the desk she took in the sprawled pages of parchment, some old documents and a piece of crumbled parchment to finish the pile. She took it into her hands and slowly straightened it out, reading the first few words she quickly understood it was a letter to her Avery started writing but never finished. She read it fully until the sentence stopped in the middle, was this the moment he found out? She took the piece of parchment and folded it neatly, putting it in the pocket of her dirty clothes, that was the only thing that belonged to her right now.

She saw Riddle, heard his plans, and knew they were to stay here for a long while until he killed them or they were killed by the war he planned on starting. She was a Pureblood herself, everyone in the Manor was, but she never shared their views about Muggles, Halfbloods and Muggle-borns. Perhaps now it wouldn't matter considering that to protect her family and her husband she had to turn on them, had to cross over her own morals and beliefs.

She had an idea why Riddle wanted her here, no matter how much dread that made her feel she knew that one can't keep secrets for too long, especially not from the Dark Lord himself who always was found knowing everyone's and their mother's business. Her wizarding shop looked ordinary to the people passing by on the street, glamoured to forever hide the old and dark wooden exterior from those who had no business with her or her line of business. She prided herself as a successful owner of it for the past several years, starting just fresh out of Hogwarts she didn't see much success then. She stayed days and nights, working and making everything by hand to make the store into what it is today. Lorcan stayed by her side through the highs and lows of the business, offering to invest their money into it to help her start, but she refused stating that only funds from the business would go towards the store and he had nothing but respect and adoration for her determination and passion. It was a shame that the store would be closed now, left there with no one to look over it, no one to keep it running or notify her clients of her sudden disappearance from the market.